Grey Book of Days - Volume I (A 3 Vol Tale of the War of the Ring)
by ThroughMyEyesOnly
Summary: Ranger Amira of the Dunedain is an ordinary young woman, or so she thinks. Gandalf, her Mentor, has sent her on a journey to Bree, where her life is about to change forever. In a story written by her own hand, follow Amira as she walks, fights, and lives with the Fellowship. A keen observer of nature and the intricacies of life, Amira tells her story in a way no one has before.
1. Prologue & A Strange Encounter

**Disclaimer:** Lord of the Rings belongs to J.R.R Tolkien, the master of Middle Earth. I am merely taking his events in the War of the Ring, coupled with the setting and characters, and shaping them into my own version. I do not take much credit for this work, since Tolkien laid out an incredible amount of groundwork for me. However, I thought it would be interesting to add a more modern, feminine perspective to the story.

_Author's Note:_All conversations that take place are in the Common Language, or Westron, (modern day English) unless otherwise noted and translated for the reader to understand. In areas where I do not know the exact translation of English to Elfish, I have come up with my own replica of the language. At any time I could, I did my best to take directly from the novel or others stories that included the quotes within.

Volume I

** The Grey Book of Days**

_ a personal and collective_

_ history of the Fellowship_

** Introduction**

In the following text, you will hear a story that no one has heard before outside of Middle Earth. A good many of these events parallel Bilbo Baggin's and Frodo Baggin's (Ringbearer) accounts in the Red Book of Westmarch, but neither of these legendary Hobbits spoke ofthe two women that aided in the Fellowship of the Ring and the One Ring's demise alongwith Sauron. It is thought that the Ringbearer purposely did not include references tothese women in accordance with their personal wishes, or quite possibly to keep their names and histories private, as was a custom in those days, especially regarding roles of women. However, when the War of the Ring ended, one of these women wrote everythingthat transpired from memory, in very great detail and literacy. Her tale was found decadesafter her death, and the book was considered one of the most treasured tales of the pastMiddle Earth had ever known, aside from the Red Book of Westmarch.

We do not know how long it took her to complete this lengthy work, but it has been argued that others added to the story after her death. We do not agree. The text is completely her own, and her astonishingly modernistic method of writing rings true throughout the Volumes.

The following is her very personal account of all that she experienced from beginning to end. Please note that we went through great pains to preserve the authenticity of her work as much as we could, but we did edit along the way for your convenience. This text was written in a large, bound book, and it was primarily penned in Westron, although bits of Elvish appear in sections. Thankfully, she included translations alongside these languages.

It is our great pleasure to share this wonderful tale. Let us allow you to meet Amira, daughter of Drü and Amirana, female Ranger of the North, member of legendary Fellowship of the Ring...

* * *

**A Note on Names:**

_Amira_ – pronounced "Ah-my-ra" (nickname _Amir_ – pronounced "Am-ire")

_Ehlon_ – pronounced "Eh-lon" with a soft "e" such as in "elephant"

**A Note on Roles of Persons in the Grey Book of Days:**

_Frodo Baggins_, a well-to-do hobbit from the Shire, who inherits the One Ring from Bilbo, his adoptive uncle (actual cousin).

_Samwise Gamgee_, gardener for the Bagginses, who accompanies Frodo on the quest to destroy the Ring.

_Meriadoc Brandybuck_, or Merry, Frodo's cousin and companion in the Fellowship.

_Peregrin Took_, Pip or Pippin, Frodo's cousin and companion in the Fellowship.

_Gandalf_, a wizard, who aids Frodo in his quest. A Maia sent by the Valar to contest Sauron. Adoptive uncle figure to Amira.

_Ehlon_, daughter of Lord Ehlonear and Lady Milanwen. A descendant of a great line of Dunedain and member of the Fellowship. Is a female Ranger who has travelled a great many places in Middle Earth (nicknamed "_Walker_").

_Aragorn_, descendant of Isildur and rightful heir to the thrones of Arnor and Gondor. Also known as _Strider_.

_Legolas Greenleaf_, an Elf prince, who aids Frodo and the Fellowship. Son of King Thrandruil of Mirkwood and friend of the dwarf Gimli.

_Gimli_, son of Glóin, a dwarf included in the Fellowship.

_Denethor_, ruling Steward of Gondor and Lord of Minas Tirith.

_Boromir_, the eldest son of Denethor and member of the Fellowship.

_Faramir_, younger brother of Boromir and not favoured by Denethor.

_Elrond,_ Lord of Rivendell and father to Arwen Undomiel.

_Bilbo Baggins_, Frodo's adoptive uncle.

_Théoden_, King of Rohan.

_Éomer_, the 3rd Marshal of the Mark, Théoden's nephew. Later King of Rohan after Théoden's death.

_Éowyn_, sister of Éomer.

_Treebeard_, an Ent, who rescues Meriadoc and Pippin from orcs and who helps to turn the tide of battle.

_Sauron_, the Dark Lord and titular Lord of the Rings, a fallen Maia who helped the Elves forge the Rings of Power long ago. He forged the One Ring in secret to control all the other Rings of Power.

_The Nazgûl or Ringwraiths_, nine servants of Sauron. Kings of old, they were enslaved to the One Ring through nine of the Rings of Power.

_The Witch-king of Angmar_, the Lord of the Nazgûl, and Sauron's most powerful servant, who commands Sauron's army.

_Saruman_, a corrupted wizard who seeks the One Ring for himself. Brainwashed by Sauron through overuse of the Palantír. A Maia sent by the Valar to contest Sauron.

_Gríma Wormtongue_, a servant of Saruman, a go-between from Saruman to Théoden who poisons Théoden's perceptions with well placed "advice".

_Gollum (named Sméagol in earlier life)_, who formerly possessed the One Ring, which turned him to evil and gave him unnaturally long life.

* * *

** Prologue**

"_I amar prestar sen: han mathon ne nen, han mathon ne chae…a han noston ned wilith," 'The world is changed: I feel it in the water, I feel it in the earth… I smell it in the air,'_ the Lady of the Wood, Lady Galadriel, whispered within her peaceful garden in Lórien. Visions danced in her mind, visions of what was, what is, and what will.

_"It began with the forging of the Great Rings. Three were given to the Elves, immortal, wisest, fairest of all beings. Seven to the Dwarf Lords, great miners and craftsmen of the mountain halls. And Nine… nine rings were gifted to the race of Men who, above all else, desire power. For within these rings was bound the strength and will to govern each race… but they were all of them deceived for another ring was made. In the land of Mordor, in the fires of Mount Doom, the Dark Lord Sauron forged in secret a Master Ring to control all others, and into this Ring he poured his cruelty, his malice and his will to dominate all life. One Ring to rule them all… the one we all fear and seek._

"_One by one the Free lands of Middle earth fell to the power of the ring. But there were some who resisted. A last alliance of Men and Elves marched against the armies of Mordor. On the slopes of Mount Doom they fought for the freedom of Middle-Earth. Soon, victory was near for all… but the power of the Ring could not be undone. Sauron emerged upon the battlefield, slaying all nearest to him, taking down the mightiest of Men and Elves alike… one of which was the King of Gondor, it was in this moment when all hope had faded. But then, from the ashes, Isildur, son of the king, took up his father's sword… and Sauron, the enemy of the Free Peoples of Middle Earth, was defeated._

"_The Ring passed to Isildur who had this one chance to destroy evil forever, but the hearts of Men are easily corrupted, and the Ring of Power has a will of its own… and in the end it betrayed Isildur to his death…_

"_Some things that should not have been forgotten were lost. History became legend, and legend became myth. For two and a half thousand years the Ring passed out of all knowledge._

"_Until, when chance came, the Ring ensnared a new bearer...the creature Gollum. He took it, and for five hundred years it poisoned Gollum's mind, consuming him, bringing him unnatural long life. And in the gloom of Gollum's cave the Ring waited. Darkness crept back into the world, whispers of a nameless fear… the Shadow in the East. The Ring of Power perceived that it's time had now come._

"_It abandoned Gollum… but something happened then the Ring did not intend. It was picked up by the most unlikely creature imaginable…a Hobbit… Bilbo Baggins of the Shire. For the time will soon come… when Hobbits will shape the fortunes of all_,"

* * *

**Chapter One – A Strange Encounter**

_ The first page of this chapter had mildew on the top portion, ruining the page beyond repair, so we do not know if there were any introductory notes. This is the beginning of what we were able to read. Amira's writing was very small, and ink blots would often merge two words together, forcing us to use forensic means to decipher them. We assume, however, that Amira's journey began somewhere in Arthedain, where she lived while she trained as a Ranger._

The chilly fall air lanced through my clothes and into my skin, and I couldn't help but shiver as I stopped on the hill that would lead down to the Shire. I smiled as I drew my eyes over the valley, not wanting to forget the beauty of the multi-coloured grasses and golden trees. I had never come this far West before; everything I had seen on my journey to date was new.

I straightened my back slightly as I thought of the quest I was currently about to embark on: the Quest of the Ring. Not only would I be crossing through unknown lands in Middle Earth, I would be guiding the Hobbit with the One Ring toward the fiery mountains where it had been created. I shivered slightly, feeling the dampness of the forest I'd just brushed through stick to my clothes and cool my skin. Darkness was spreading everywhere, and I could feel the first faint beginnings of it even here, in the peaceful valley of the Hobbits.

I sighed wearily; it had been a long journey, and the aches and pains were catching up on me. In all my years of training with Gandalf and my Ranger friends, I never felt as tired as I did that day. I rubbed a cold hand over my face and mustered the strength to continue walking, trying instead to focus on the unexpected beauty of this yawning valley. The Shire was where this journey would begin, and it was where I was needed, so I must go...

Trudging down the steep hill, I had to be careful on the wet grass, which was slippery from rain. Over the faint outline of the mountains I could see black clouds moving steadily toward the Shire, and I guessed tonight there would be more rain. As I slipped and slid down the hill, I wondered where Gandalf was now. He had insisted I make this trip alone while he went on a trail to the East toward Bree, where the paths of the Company would converge.

Moving from the hill and onto a road, I found my thoughts wandering to those who I would be guiding: the Hobbits. I knew the Ringbearer's name was Frodo Baggins and his loyal friend was Samwise Gamgee, but I knew nothing more. I smiled wryly, because Gandalf was always stingy with details like those, making me believe after a time that it was his effort to create a mystery for me to unravel. Living and fighting with the great wizard had taught me enough to be patient for answers, if any were to come. Before I left Camp, he told me to avoid the road leading from the Shire to Bree, which I had thought a strange instruction, and still did now. I frowned slightly, wondering if I would have to scrape my way through the forest like I had done thus far on my journey. I had been looking forward to walking on a road like I was on now, but as fate would have it, no such comfort would exist for me in the next few days.

I lengthened my stride as I made my way around a Shire town, which was bustling with activity. I longed to stop and talk to the short little people in their homes built into the earth, but I knew I did not have any time to spare. _Maybe when all of this Darkness is over_, I told myself, _maybe then I will return_. I barely escaped a farmer searching for me, a trespasser on his lands, and I swung over a fence and onto the main road. I had no way of knowing if this one would lead to the road which Gandalf had warned me about, but I knew I was going in the right direction. If there was one thing I could not do, it was stop for directions. After spending a night beneath a cottonwood tree wrapped up in my cloak, I resumed my journey in the morning. By late afternoon, I had passed through the majority of the Shire grasslands and I could see the Old Forest up ahead. I stumbled onto a road, and it was dark, with a draught of uncomfortably cold air. Immediately, I supposed this was the Road which I should avoid. I stopped briefly to catch my breath, for I had been running all day, and looked up and down the Road.

It was as quiet as Death. I didn't trust the silence somehow, although nothing jumped out from behind a tree and attacked me. I stood there for a moment longer, remembering Gandalf telling me that this forest was not inhabited by evil, other than the evils passing through it. It did not make me feel any more comfortable, and with this thought in mind, I crossed the road and pushed my way through the forest in the general direction of Bree. By the time night fell, I approximated I was roughly one third of the way through the forest, judging by how fast I had been running and remembering the length of it on Gandalf's map.

Since safe was not a word I associated with the forest, I slept up high in a large oak tree for the night. Although I did not sleep at all, it felt wonderful to rest my legs, which had begun to ache at the end of the day. When morning came, I was as rested as I could be, and I continued pushing through the entangling underbrush, walking at first and then running. It was just before noon that I discovered the trail. It was about a foot wide and had been packed down by many feet, animal and human alike. Despite this, however, it looked as though it hadn't been used since the last heavy rain two days ago. I bent down to have a better look at the path, and I caught something I didn't see before: the distinct heel of a Ranger's boot, or, at the very least, a warrior's boot. I frowned, unsure of the safety of the trail. I had not expected I would meet anyone on my journey, and I felt uneasy about the status of this Ranger or warrior: if I encountered them, what would their allegiance be? There had been betrayals among the Dunedain, but they had been few. Would it be my fate to meet one of these? I shook my head to clear it and continued on, telling myself if I could beat an Orc, I could beat an unsuspecting warrior in a duel. With this feeling settling over me, I began running as fast as I could go, barely stopping for food or drink, let alone rest.

* * *

The afternoon flew by, and soon it was dusk, or near so, since it was hard to tell the time of day in the dark, mute forest. Even my footsteps were sounds that were quickly swallowed up by the density of the brush. I stopped by a bubbling brook to drink, and rested for a moment on my haunches, keeping my ears open for any sound that could alert me to danger. I heard the distinct sound of approaching footsteps, and although they were quiet, they seemed loud to my oversensitive ears. Feeling my heartbeat boom in my chest, I scrambled up the nearest tree, a large fir, and hid myself among the branches.

The person came into the clearing a few moments later, a hooded figure dressed in Ranger's clothing. So I had been right! They slowed to stop by the brook, cupping their hands and drinking slowly as I had done just moments before. My curiosity burned as much as my warrior senses to know who this person was. As they drank, they kept looking around them, as though they guessed my presence in the tree above them. I held every muscle locked tight to keep from falling from the precarious position I had rushed into in my haste, and focused on the figure below me. They were slight but tall, yet not tall enough to be a man. The figure's body seemed strong, and I wondered if the person was a young Ranger, still a boy and not having grown to the full height of a man.

They rose unexpectedly, and then crouched back down, seemingly intent on the ground before them. To my horror, I realized they were tracing my footsteps with their eyes to the path and back to the brook, where they would lead directly to the tree I had climbed into. I held my breath, willing the stranger to keep their eyes level. Suddenly, in a flash, they had drawn their bow and were aiming an arrow directly at me in the tree. Unlocking my muscles instantly, I propelled myself out from the branch just as they loosened an arrow to the spot where I had been precariously sitting. Landing on my feet but swaying to my knees, I drew my sword as they moved toward me with lightning speed. Our swords crashed together as I attempted to protect myself from the Ranger's heavy blow. A voice came from within the dark hood:

"Who are you?"

It was a low pitched voice, and yet it seemed like a forced tone.

"I am no one you need to know," I said, and they threw themselves toward me, forcing me back against a tree.

"I will decide that for myself," they said, their tone menacing and dark. I saw their smile beneath the shadow of their cloak, and I growled a little, twisting away from their sword and hooking their leg with my foot. This action caused them to fall to their knees, and I danced away from their deadly answering thrust, which would have gutted me.

"Why do you wish to kill me? You don't even know me," I hissed. I twisted my sword around theirs, trying to force it out of their hands, a move which failed since they hung onto it tightly.

"You..." they growled, forcing me backwards again, "you, the wench hiding in the tree. Didn't _you_ wish to kill _me_?"

Before I could answer, they had me caged between two trees, where there was no room for me to swing. I twirled around one tree, barely missing the tip of their sword. On the other side, I moved quickly and blocked their swing, simultaneously getting close enough to them to punch their jaw. Their head went back, and in slow motion, I watched the hood slide back to reveal their face. This was no young boy, it was a grown woman! In my shock and horror, I let my defences go slack for a moment too long. The woman Ranger took advantage of this immediately, slicing toward my exposed shoulder.

Ducking and rolling on the ground away from her, I sprung myself into a standing position just in time to meet her surprisingly heavy blow. My arms shook as they met her force, and our eyes connected. In a flurried moment of understanding, I realized who this woman was: _the Walker_. Feeling strangely weak, I allowed her to twist my sword across the small clearing, and suddenly I found myself weaponless. I twisted and ducked as she backed me against a tree, seemingly intent on drawing some of my blood. I stood there with my back against the tree and my arms by my side. She seemed shocked that I wasn't making any effort to defend myself at all. I looked directly at her, the tension leaving my body suddenly, although I was still very much in danger. In a flash, her sword tip was pressing into my throat, not hard enough to draw blood, but close.

"Who are you?" she asked in what I guessed was her regular voice. I sighed.

"Take your sword away from my throat and I will answer," I said, and her grey eyes, the colour of a stormy sky, darkened slightly at my words. She frowned.

"I don't think so," she said slowly, pushing the tip harder against my throat, cutting through the skin. I blinked, feeling a small rivulet of blood run down the front of my neck.

"I know who you are..." I whispered, and I watched her face register surprise, suspicion, and then amusement.

"Who am I?" she asked in a slightly mocking tone.

"The Walker," I answered, and the pressure from the sword point eased slightly as confusion stole across her face. If there was one woman the entire North would recognize, it would be The Walker: her deadly reputation had circled around the rest of Middle Earth, I was certain.

"How-" and then I was shocked to see her draw back in horror, "you...I," She backed away from me, and I was completely and utterly confused. "Gandalf spoke true."

I frowned, feeling uneasy at her words.

"You are the sixth member of the Company journeying to the Council in Rivendell are you not?" she asked, her eyes roving over my form and settling on my face.

"Yes," I breathed, feeling my strength ebb away as the tension left my body. I leaned back against the tree for support, feeling strangely weakened. I watched her sheath her sword, and then I looked to the ground, finding her gaze slightly disconcerting. "Gandalf must have known we would meet."

I felt her draw closer to me, and I lifted my head, surprised by her proximity.

"And who are you, young one, to be fighting in such dark times?" she asked, her voice unexpectedly gentle.

Our eyes met, and I exhaled shakily, feeling the aches of my journey catching up with me again.

"I am Amir, of the Dunedain like you," I answered, lifting a hand to my throat and wiping away the blood with my fingers. I could feel her watching me, and when I looked up, her eyes held regret.

Walker shook her head, "I did not wish to injure you, but I did not expect someone as young as you to be the sixth member of the Company. Please accept my apologies."

I smiled faintly. "I accept, Walker, but I am not as young as you may think."

She frowned, and then sighed. "I suppose I will leave that for you to tell willingly," Then she looked around the clearing briefly, and back at me. "You look weary."

I nodded, moving away from the tree and picking up my sword from the other side of the clearing. Sheathing it, I took a deep breath. "I had only a drop of water before I found myself hiding in the tree above you."

Her eyes twinkled with amusement, but that was soon gone. "Then drink, for the day grows shorter."

Crouching down beside the brook again, I washed the blood off my hands and throat, running wet fingers over my face briefly. I then cupped my hands and drank quickly, nearly sighing with relief as my thirst was quenched at last. Rising, I checked my weapons: bow, knife, and sword were all in place. Satisfied, I turned to Walker, whose gaze I had felt on me the entire time. I looked back at her, observing features I had not noticed before: the muscled though rounded body, and the noble forehead and jawline that spoke of her higher bloodline.

"I am ready," I remarked quietly, and she nodded. Wordlessly, we began walking, me following her lead. Soon we began to run, and all thought evaded my mind as I focused solely on the placement of every step.

* * *

When the faltering day turned to night, we were forced to stop. Walker gripped my forearm and led me into a small clearing off the path, and in the growing blackness that was falling through the forest, she lit a small fire. The light danced across the tree trunks and illuminated up into the branches, which seemed far from content with the sudden heat in the clearing. Reaching into her pack, she drew out some potatoes and harabas, a wild salad green that grew profusely nearly everywhere. Placing the potatoes into the fire, she looked up at me, those grey eyes twinkling with amusement once again. "Are you hungry, Amir?" I smiled faintly and nodded. My stomach had been gnawing and twisting uncomfortably nearly all day, but as I had been trained, I ignored it.

Walker passed me some of the harabas, and I chewed on them thoughtfully, letting my eyes wander unfocussed, staring at the flames. I thought back to the day and wondered if my warrior senses were telling me the right thing: throughout the afternoon, I couldn't help but begin to trust the woman Ranger more and more. Was I making a fatal mistake? I frowned slightly, for if she had wanted to kill me, she would have done so long before now. She would have nothing to gain by my death, I reasoned.

"You can trust me, young one," Her voice startled me, and my head whipped over to where she was turned over a potato in the fire. It was as though she had read my thoughts.

I swallowed thickly. "I know," I said quietly, "my instincts tell me this as well."

She smiled, the fullest one I had seen thus far. "Listen to those instincts, for when ignored, they come back to haunt you."

I nodded, feeling my lips curve into a small smile in return. "I am familiar with that."

"Here," she said, setting a blackened potato into a small wooden bowl and handing it to me, "eat."

"Thank-you." I responded, bowing my head slightly in respect to her bloodline. Her eyes caught and held mine, hers taking on a seriousness that surprised me.

"There is no need for that here, Amir...I am not one to be bowed to, in any way." She spoke softly, but her words were sharply edged, though I was certain not toward me. She must not have known I had noticed the features of her bloodline.

"Perhaps you think this is so," I returned, "but I say I should decide for myself."

She shook her head and then turned over the other potato in the fire, closing the conversation.

Cutting open the skin with my dagger, I popped a steaming piece of potato in my mouth, revelling in the taste as I chewed carefully. Together with the harabas, it made a perfect meal, although it had disappeared a little too quickly for my liking.

Walker seemed to know this, because she said: "I would give you more, but we must conserve where we can."

I nodded, understanding completely. "Thank-you," I replied, bowing my head toward her again, making her eyes darken.

Suddenly, I found myself blurting out words before fully forming them in my mind. "Do you not trust me, Walker?"

She shook her head quickly. "Nay, I trust you well, young one. I merely have dark thoughts on my mind."

I frowned, and then nodded, understanding that she wasn't about to expand on this. To have dark thoughts invading the mind this far from Mordor was a strange thing...

The fire soon began to ebb, and I found myself locking my jaw to keep back yawns.

"Lay down to sleep," Walker said softly, meeting my eyes from across the fire. "I will keep the first watch."

I smiled slightly before turning away to gather the pine needles into a small bed. When this was done, I stretched myself out and bit back a hiss when I felt how aching my leg muscles were. Feeling my strength disappear, I drifted to sleep with the popping and cracking of the fire.

* * *

"Amir..." a voice penetrated my dreams, which were already beginning to fade, but I hung onto them tightly, trying to force them to stay. "Amir, it is time." I rolled onto my back, and when I opened my eyes I saw two things: Walker crouching over me, and daylight filtering through the trees. I jumped up instantly, surprising the woman in front of me.

"You didn't wake me up to keep watch," I accused, and she smiled faintly.

"You were very weary, I could tell." she countered.

I opened my mouth to reply, but I shut it quickly, turning my attention instead to brush off the needles that had clung to my clothes. I combed my fingers through my hair, which felt tangled, and picked out a few remaining needles.

"That was unnecessary, Walker, but thank-you," I said finally, looking back at her again.

She nodded, seeming strangely distant, as though her thoughts were far away. In this light, I could see the lines of weariness painted upon her own face, and an unexpected anger surged through me.

Moving toward her, I watched as her expression changed to confusion as I drew closer until I was less than an arm's length away.

"If you did not wake me to keep watch, it is only fair that I return some strength to you," I said quietly, and the confusion deepened when I put my hands on her shoulders.

She opened her mouth to speak, but something in my eyes must have made her change her mind. I lifted my hands to either side of her face, an action which made her tense up immediately. I ignored her reaction and focused on the transfer. Without much effort, the dam inside me burst, and I let out a flood of energy into her, watching as her eyes widened when she understood what I was doing. Drawing back and letting my hands slip away from her face, I began to turn away to begin clearing up the fire, but she grabbed my arm, startling me.

Her expression was one full of questions and shock as her eyes searched mine. Finally, she grasped both of my upper arms, keeping me in place.

"Do not ever do that to me again," she ground out, and it was my turn to be confused. Where had this anger come from?

"Walker, I-"

She cut me off, "Do not waste your power on me, Amir. Keep your strength for those who may need it." Her voice was softer at the end, and I relaxed slightly.

"You were as weary as I was yesterday," I argued, and she narrowed her eyes at me.

"Promise me," Walker insisted, and I had to recollect what she wanted me to promise her.

I shook my head, "I cannot promise that, I am sorry."

She sighed, letting go of my arms. "Keep your strength, Amir, as much as you can."

I nodded, and the strange moment passed.

Clearing away the evidence of the previous night, we continued on through the forest. As I had guessed the day before, the rain made its presence known soon after the morning brightened into day. Although we were mostly protected by the dense boughs of the trees, the rain still dripped steadily down onto us, soaking through our clothes as the hours went by.

The day went quickly, and we were still deep in the Old Forest. When night fell once again, I remarked that we were approximately two thirds of the way through. She only nodded, and we were quiet, as we had been nearly the entire day. Our silence wasn't uncomfortable, it was merely companionable, and I felt at ease around the woman Ranger. I had never had the honour to meet and travel with someone, especially a woman, with such high ranking blood. Although these things mostly didn't bother or change the way I perceived a person, there were certain customs that must be followed: bowing the head or entire body, respecting rank by titles, standing up upon their arrival in a room, being willing to sacrifice honour or life in order to save theirs, among others. It was deeply rooted in the Northern way to understand the workings of these customs and to be able to recognize the signs of nobility, or at least, noble blood in the face of a stranger.

As I thought of this around the fire in one of our lengthy silences, I found it strange that Walker had not wished me to acknowledge her higher blood at all, in body or voice. It went against my training to do this, but I respected her wishes the best I could, having to catch myself before bowing my head several times throughout the day.

The following two days rushed by as fast as our footsteps on the forest floor, and still the rain fell heavily. Our water supply was critical, so whenever we had the chance, we found leaves that had collected rainwater and tipped them into our mouths to momentarily satisfy our thirst. The creek had long disappeared, and now the roots of the trees were tangled together, competing for space, light, and water. At first I had perceived it as beautiful, but now that we had been running for four days, the silence, darkness, and rain was beginning to dampen my enthusiasm for trees, as much as I loved them.

When we broke through the forest on the fourth day, I breathed a sigh of relief, as though my lungs had been suffocated by the silence and darkness. The afternoon sun blinded us momentarily, and we staggered for a moment, bumping into each other.

My eyes adjusted, and I saw that Walker was smiling as she looked out across the shimmering fields.

"At last our eyes may see sunshine," she murmured, and I nodded, feeling my heart lift as the sun warmed my moist skin.

"At last," I echoed, and sighed again.

"By evening we will reach Bree," she said, turning to me, her grey eyes catching the sunlight. "The longer part of our journey has been completed."

I smiled, thinking ahead to the warmth, food, and shelter that would await us in Bree. Walker seemed to guess where my thoughts had taken me, and her eyes crinkled slightly as she grinned, touching my arm.

"Come, let us run,"

And run we did, our footsteps lighter on the hard packed road.

* * *

**Thank-you very much for reading! **** This is my first attempt at fan-fiction, and it has turned into something much more than I originally intended, with some 130 000 words already written in advance…I promise things will start to pick up more as the chapters go by. Patience, my friends. Reviews would make me very happy. I have already uploaded Chapter Two. **


	2. Rain Before Bree

**Chapter Two – Rain Before Bree**

It began to pour rain again before we entered Bree, and I followed Walker's lead beneath the oak trees that lined the road, passing under what ones we could in effort to stay remotely dry. I had begun to feel a stabbing pain in my side from running for too long, but I forced it out of my mind, focusing instead on my surroundings, observing the beauty of the oak trees and golden fields.

We reached the road leading into the town just as the thunderstorm hit, sending shards of lightening across the bruised, black sky above us. Dashing under a tree, we caught our breath as the thunder roared over the valley, echoing off the far mountains. Walker and I leaned against the wide tree trunk shoulder to shoulder, and there was a static feeling in the air as more lightening boomed and cracked over Bree.

I felt Walker's hand on my shoulder. I turned toward her, composing my features in order to not appear as weary as my body insisted I was.

"Amir, keep your hood up at all times now," she spoke quietly into my ear. I nodded, pulling my hood over my head at her confusing command.

She must have sensed my confusion, for she sighed. "I am well-known in these parts. I cannot change that now, but if I can help it, we must try to keep this Quest a secret. You, as the sixth member of the Company, must remain invisible as much as possible..."

Walker paused, seemingly forming her next words carefully.

"You must not speak, lest someone hears you are a woman. Female Rangers, or even warriors, draw unnecessary and potentially dangerous attention in lands such as these. Keep your head down, and I will speak for you." she said. And then she smiled wryly, "You will be my strange, mute companion."

I grinned humourlessly, nodding to show I understood. "Yes."

I recalled her words three days before when she recounted what Gandalf had told her, and I realized the plan was the same as had been told to me: arrange for a room at the Prancing Pony, a hotel in Bree, and wait for the arrival of the Hobbits. Gandalf himself would be arriving later on, if all went well on his own journey, which he had not expanded on either to me or Walker, which I found interesting.

Wordlessly, we moved toward the gate just as another flash of lightening illuminated the scene. Pulling my hood lower over my face, I stood close to Walker as the rain pelted down.

A series of sharp raps on the gate with her knuckles brought a man to slide open the look-out.

"Who are you, and what brings you to Bree?" he asked loudly.

"We are travellers from the North who wish to find shelter from the rain and shop for supplies in your town," Walker spoke lowly from beneath her hood. The man sniffed dismissively, looking calculatingly at both of us.

"Alright then. Come on inside." With a loud screech, he pulled open the small door on the gate to usher us in.

Inside the gate, the rain had swept the cobblestones clean of dirt, and the smell of baking bread met my nose as we walked away. My stomach churned at the scent of the bread, and I felt strangely dizzy as we continued down the mostly empty street, lined with shops and stores. Glancing at these buildings, I searched for the one we would be entering, and a moment later, there it was: The Prancing Pony, lit up brightly on the inside and even from here, the voices of the people inside could be heard. Moving onto the wooden stairs, I tramped my boots to rid them of mud, as did my companion. Pulling open the heavy oak door, she ushered me through into the warmth and din which lay inside.

Immediately, I was aware of the sounds of cursing, lewd singing, and unpleasant laughter that filled the large room. The tables were filled with intoxicated men, and in one corner, some were singing and clapping along to a man playing a type of stringed instrument that I had not seen before.

Behind a desk, an older man I assumed to be the innkeeper smiled at Walker. He moved the papers he'd previously been reading and stood.

"Good evening, sir. Are you looking for accommodations? We have many rooms still available." And then, pausing to look at me, he added, "Or perhaps a bit of Bree's finest ale is what you seek, Mister...?"

I imagined Walker's smile, finding it amusing myself that we had both been thought to be male. Of course, this worked perfectly in regard to our plan. The more we could remain unnoticed, the better.

"I am called the Walker," she finally said lowly. I stifled a laugh as the innkeeper's eyes widened at the sound of her voice, widening even more once he had registered the name she'd provided him.

"The..._the_ Walker, the Ranger of the Dunedain that walks the mountains and valleys?" he stuttered, licking his lips in what I gathered to be nervousness. Clearly Walker's reputation was as I had known and expected it to be in these parts: deadly.

She nodded, and then gesturing to me, she continued. "We seek accommodation and food, Mr. Butterbur, but first, we are looking to meet someone here. He goes by the name Gandalf."

Mr. Butterbur, whose name befitted him, shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

"He, well...He hasn't come in for a while now, but considering the ways of wizards, this is, well, hardly out of the ordinary, if you don't mind me saying. However, there were others asking about him," he replied, motioning toward a table where four Hobbits sat, drinking and eating. Reviewing his words, I didn't have to recognize the dark haired one as the Ringbearer to know these where the Hobbits Gandalf had spoken of.

"Thank-you sir. May we go and sit?" Walker asked with infinite politeness, and the innkeeper seemed startled by her words.

"Of course, of course!" he cried quickly, with a shaky smile which belied his inner turmoil upon recognizing my companion's lethal reputation as the Walker. Finding myself unable to keep the grin from my face, I followed Walker as we moved past the tables of unpleasant smelling men and into a darkened corner.

Drawing back a chair, I sat down only after my companion had done so, feeling the muscles in my legs relax for the first time that day. Out of the corner of her eye, I watched her examine the four Hobbits quickly before returning her gaze to me.

"So they are here," she whispered, barely moving her lips.

I nodded, "And so is the Ring." Even mentioning it, I felt what I had begun to observe in myself as soon as I had seen the Hobbits: the growing unease in the presence of the Ring, feeling a tendril of darkness reaching toward me.

Walker leaned forward. "Do you feel it?" she asked quietly, and I nodded again.

"I do not understand," I whispered, "but I felt it as soon as I entered the room." I paused, sighing a little. "The Ring's power cannot be underestimated," I finished.

"No, it cannot," she agreed, but there was a concerned tone in her voice.

"What is wrong?" I asked, and she leaned forward even more.

"Resist it, Amir, with the entire strength of your being," her words were terse and hard. I frowned in confusion, wishing I could see her eyes, but the shadow of her hood kept them from me. Then I straightened up, moving away from her, my hands closing into fists on the table as I understood what she had said.

"It does not affect me as much as you suggest," I ground out in a tense whisper. "I merely feel it as a growing darkness, not one that will challenge my will or tamper with my mind."

Walker leaned forward and touched my hand, manually loosening it from a fist finger by finger. So surprised was I by her touch that I didn't even tense up. I stared at her in wonder.

"Be at ease," she said, with a touch of amusement in her voice, "I only wished to hear your thoughts. Now that I understand, I do not need to worry about the Ring's power over you."

I relaxed, and her hand retreated. "And what about you? Does it not affect you in any way?"

She sighed. "It affects us all, in some matter," she began cryptically, " but I feel it in the same way you do."

I nodded, satisfied with her answer, which I knew to be true by her genuine tone. I sensed the coming presence of another. Together with Walker, who must have seen the person behind us, I assumed a travel-weary stance.

A buxom waitress came by, her clothes tight against her body and her eyes too bright.

"Good evening, sirs, how may I serve you?" she asked, thrusting out her chest, her voice loud and brashly persuasive to my ears. Speaking over the sound of the table of shouting men next to us, Walker put in quickly:

"Some water, if you please, and perhaps a loaf of fresh bread."

Tipping her blonde head to one side, the waitress's distorted lips curved into what she must have considered to be a dazzling smile. "And nothing else, good sir?" she said, her own voice becoming low and secretive, as she turned her body in Walker's direction and leaning slightly toward her.

"No. That will be all." Walker's tone was direct. With an exasperated huff, she departed, leaving me wondering how long we might wait for our refreshments.

Walker leaned forward again, gesturing for me to do the same.

"Do you see the man in the opposite corner?" she asked in a whisper, barely moving her lips lest he read them. I moved back and settled more into my chair, pretending to gaze introspectively out across the room until my eyes had travelled to the man in question. Sitting so that his face, hidden by a hood, was entirely in shadow, he had one elbow resting on the table in front of him as he glanced every so often at the Hobbits. He was smoking, and the glow from his pipe would illuminate his face for a moment, allowing me to see a firm jaw, tense mouth, and the beginnings of a beard. In the remaining second I gave myself to take in his features, I noted that he wore Ranger's clothing in dark colours of deep brown and black. Moving my eyes from his form, I swept them across to the other side of the room before returning them to our table.

Looking up at Walker, whose gaze I had felt on me the entire time, I spoke of my suspicions: "Is he the one Gandalf spoke of?"

She was about to speak, but the waitress, a different one this time, came by with our water and bread. She was a sharp contrast to the previous waitress in her quiet voice and shy manner.

"Here you are, sirs," she said, setting down the glasses and bread, which was steaming and sending its scent toward me tantalizingly.

"Thank-you," Walker responded, and I nodded my own thanks, observing the girl's blush before she departed.

Cutting off a slice, I offered one first to my companion, who took it with a nod.

"I believe he is the Ranger who will lead us," she finally remarked, and I frowned as I chewed.

"Do you suppose he is looking for us as well?" I asked, voicing my thoughts.

She cut herself another slice of bread before answering. "I would imagine so," she replied, "unless Gandalf did not tell him of us."

I nodded, for that could very well be a possibility, knowing Gandalf. At times, I wondered if he did some of these things on purpose, to make every journey even more unexpected and surprising.

"I suppose we will find out," I finally commented, taking a slow sip of my water. I longed to empty the entire contents of the glass, but I knew better than to drink too much after days of low supply.

I swept my eyes around the room again, landing on the Hobbits. Two of them were clearly into their cups, singing songs and attracting the attention of the men next to them. Soon, the men took up the song with them and the two Hobbits were brought more ale. Looking at the dark haired one, the Ringbearer, I noticed that he was merely smiling and watching the antics of his friends, but not partaking in their folly. The round faced one, who sat next to him, clapped his hands to the song as the verses came to a close.

I returned my eyes to the slice of bread in my hand, but before I could take another bite, a snatch of conversation from the Hobbit's table caught my attention suddenly. When I glanced over, I saw that the Ringbearer, was speaking to Mr. Butterbur in hushed tones.

"...known as Strider," the innkeeper finished, and Frodo nodded as Mr. Butterbur straightened up. I did not hear the rest of their quick exchange, but what I did catch was enough. My suspicions had been confirmed: the Ringbearer had seen the stranger in the corner watching them. Interestingly, he seemed to not have noticed Walker and I. Perhaps we blended in better than I thought. I glanced at Walker, and I could tell she had heard what I had as well.

"So the Ringbearer knows," I muttered, mulling over the Ranger's name: Strider. Although I could not understand why, the name seemed familiar somehow.

"Indeed," Walker said, finishing the rest of her water.

But suddenly, time seemed to come to a slowdown. In a blur of motion, my head whipped around to the sight of the Hobbits dancing on the table and singing. In the corner of my eye, I saw Walker straighten up, suddenly rigid.

"Now, you haven't heard a story like that of Bilbo Baggins! He had an adventure of a lifetime," one of the Hobbits was saying, loud enough for everyone surrounding him to hear. The Men laughed and pounded their fists on the table, cheering them both on as they continued to dance.

Dark whispers filled my mind suddenly and, watching as the Ringbearer sprang from his seat to quell his friend's speech, I saw something very strange occur. As he was pushed back by the drunken Men, the Ring of Power flew up into the air like a golden bird. Agonizingly slow, it came down: landing awkwardly on the Hobbit's finger.

Panic arose around the table when he then disappeared from sight. I was about to rise myself, but Walker, anticipating my move, put her hand over mine to stop me. I looked at her in confusion, but then voices sounded in my mind, freezing me in place.

"_I see you, Ranger. There is only death on the path you walk, only death and despair!_" the whispers were terrible, and like a hand reaching out to grab me, I had to twist away from its force. My mind clearing, I saw that the Men were still laughing drunkenly, as though the sight of the dark haired Hobbit's sudden disappearance was merely a side effect of Bree's finest ale. The other three Hobbits, on the other hand, looked around in fright, finally settling on the spot where the Ringbearer had reappeared, pulling the Ring from his finger and stuffing it hurriedly in his pocket.

In my shock, I had forgotten the properties of the Ring: the ability for the wearer to become invisible. I squeezed Walker's fingers in silent thanks for her staying me from action.

The room of men did not seem concerned by the Hobbit's momentary disappearance and sudden reappearance, but continued on with their singing and laughing as though it had never happened. I relaxed a little, only to tense up simultaneously with Walker as I saw the Ranger in the corner, Strider, jump out of the shadow and yank the Ringbearer out of the room. Immediately, both I and my companion were standing: our chairs teetering upon the force of our rising.

"We must follow," Walker hissed, and I nodded, feeling an urgency pressing down on me.

Tossing a few coins upon the table to pay for our food, she hastily led the way through the throng of drunken men – pushing past them and ignoring their curses and grunts as we both passed through.

The three remaining Hobbits appeared to be quite sobered by the experience. Standing close together, I heard their panicked whispers:

"That man took him upstairs!"

"Which way?"

"Go, go! We can take him by surprise if we go quickly! Three hobbits against one man."

Taking the initiative, Walker tapped one of them one the shoulder. "Excuse me-" they whirled around to face us, "-I was sent by Gandalf to protect his Hobbit friends during the Quest of the Ring. Frodo carries with him something which is extremely powerful...One of you three must be Sam, for I know the dark haired one, Frodo, was taken upstairs by the Ranger, am I correct?"

The round faced one stepped forward, with his chin raised. "And how would we know that you were truly send by Gandalf?" he asked.

"I believe him, Sam, c'mon. Frodo's in danger!" the taller one spoke up.

"Those are wise questions to ask in a time of darkness in Middle Earth, Master Samwise Gamgee," Walker said lowly to him, as the other two led the way upstairs. Stepping lightly behind the Hobbits, I followed my companion as we made our way up the stairs toward the Prancing Pony's lodgings.

A door to the immediate left was open, and I heard voices clearly from where the Hobbits had stopped, halting at the top of the stairs.

"Are you frightened?" Strider's strong, but rugged sounding voice asked.

"Yes," I heard Frodo reply, his voice quiet and resolved.

"Not nearly frightened enough..." the Ranger continued, his tone wry, "I know what haunts you,"

Then, in a rush of motion and cries, the three Hobbits rushed into the room with nothing but fists and a chair Samwise had hastily grabbed, facing a sword tip.

"Let him go, or I'll have you Longshanks!" the chair bearing one growled, and I smiled inwardly, amused by his brave words.

"Sam! It's alright, he's a friend of Gandalf's!" Frodo cried, standing between Strider and Sam.

"You have a stout heart, little Hobbit, but that alone will not save you," the Ranger said to the round-faced one, almost sadly. His face, now completely revealed by the absence of his hood, was rough edged but also held markings of his family's bloodline. Wise brown eyes looked out from a weathered, although still youthful, handsome face.

And then his eyes rested on Walker and I, standing behind the Hobbits; two likely mysterious looking cloaked figures in the dim lighting.

Letting his sword tip find Walker's neck, he added lowly, "And who are you, Ranger? I did not count either of you among the Hobbits."

"You might know me best as The Walker," she responded in her regular voice, slowly pushing back her hood to reveal her face and long dark hair. "I was sent by Gandalf to meet you, Strider, and these four Hobbits so that we may attend the Counsel in Rivendell as a Company."

He frowned slightly as understanding passed across his face like a shadow. Then his eyes widened at her name, but he kept the sword point aimed at Walker's throat.

"And who is your companion?" he asked gruffly, his eyes resting on me this time.

Walker smiled serenely, gesturing for me to push back my hood, "Her name is Amir, and she has been my companion on our journey thus far."

His eyes widened even more upon seeing me, but he did not say a word.

The moment passed when, backing away and lowering his sword, his stance relaxed. "I understand now fully," he finally said, sheathing his sword. The tension in the room evaporated immediately.

Strider's shoulders slumped slightly, "I am sorry to have mistaken friends as foes, but in this dark time, one must always be careful."

Walker nodded, "Of course, Strider. That is to be expected."

I glanced at the Hobbits, who had relaxed their offensive stances and looked up at Strider and us with curiosity.

"Show them the letter from Gandalf, Strider," Frodo said, and the Ranger slipped a hand into his pocket, withdrawing a piece of parchment with a red seal. Predictably, a "G" had been pressed into the broken wax. The Hobbits passed the letter between them until it came to Walker, who then handed it to me. I smiled as I read Gandalf's calm description of Strider to the Hobbits and an explanation of his plan. Strider was a Ranger from the North, it seemed, and knew a great many places in Middle Earth. Most of all, he could be trusted, as could Walker and I.

I gave the letter back to Strider, who sighed, "And this too, should be proof enough for you." He then lifted up a secondary scabbard from his belt, pulling out a broken sword. I squinted, for the lighting was dim, and I heard Walker's sharp intake of breath.

"How is it that you came to possess such a sword, Strider?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at him. The Hobbits appeared confused, and Strider sighed quietly.

"I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn, heir of Isildur who, with this sword Narsil, cut the One Ring from Sauron's hand," the tall Ranger answered calmly, and I stepped back slightly.

"Narsil!" I gasped as he slid the sword back into its sheath. This man was no mere Ranger of the North, he was of a far noble and high bloodline than I could ever have predicted! Curse the old wizard, I thought, for always understating.

"You truly are the heir of Isildur?" Sam asked doubtfully, and Strider – _Aragorn_ - nodded almost wearily.

"We can trust him," Frodo reassured his friends. "If he were the enemy, he would seem fairer and feel fouler." But Pippin turned toward Walker and I.

"But who are you?" he asked.

"I am a Ranger of the Dunedain as well," Walker answered.

I took a step forward, "Gandalf is a very dear friend of mine," I explained, "in fact, he could even be considered an Uncle."

Sam looked at me curiously. "Why didn't he ever take you to the Shire?"

I shrugged. "He always made those trips alone, Sam, although I begged him on numerous occasions to allow me to accompany him."

The Hobbits seemed satisfied with my answer. Strider sighed again, "Gandalf should have been here by this hour, but he is not."

I frowned, finding this strange myself. Walker's brow furrowed as well.

"It is no longer safe at the Prancing Pony. I feel the shadow of the Nazgûl close by," he continued, and I watched the Ringbearer, Frodo, shiver at the mention of the Nine. Were the Nazgûl sensing the presence of the Ring, if Strider's feeling proved correct?

"Then it is time to seek different lodgings," Walker responded, gazing at Frodo, who was staring at her with questions written over his face. "They will know to attack this place in search of the Ring."

The Ringbearer nodded, clearly understanding. "Then we must leave this place."

* * *

With this said, we left the Prancing Pony in haste, gathering Sam's beloved pony and moving across the street to a neighbouring hotel in order to find some lodging. Here, the Hobbits were restless but Strider sent them to bed. With some misgivings, they promptly fell asleep, seemingly exhausted. I could feel my own exhaustion settle over me now that the tension had left my body and I was sitting down in a comfortable chair. Although sleep beckoned, I kept myself awake as the night slowly went by, sitting in the company of a silent Strider and faraway Walker.

At the corner of my eye, I could see that Strider was watching my companion carefully, though not in a strange way. At length, he spoke: "I do not believe we have met, Walker. You say you are of the Dunedain?"

"Yes, Strider, I am of the Dunedain as you are, though our line is growing weaker," she murmured quietly, staring into the blazing flames. I watched Strider's brow work itself into a furrow as he processed her dark words.

"I cannot pretend to not have heard of the raids on our villages" he said slowly, "I have been away from the land of my birth for many years…" He seemed as though he was about to say more, but he did not. He nodded to himself, his eyes drawn back to the flames as silence resumed.

"What of those years, Strider?" Walker asked in a soft voice, "What goes on to the east?"

Strider sighed. "It is a long tale…"

She chuckled lightly. "Well, Strider, when I last saw the darkness of night out the window, I believe we still have all night to hear such a tale."

This comment made him smile for a moment before he nodded again. "I have travelled and fought in places far and wide. In Gondor and Rohan I was known as Thorongil, serving the armies of King Thengel and Steward Ecthelion II as they battled against the growing power of Sauron and his minions, aiding them and raising morale. I was on the fields at the victory in the province of Umbar, where Gondor prevailed. I journeyed to Moria for a short, dark time, and when I was requested by Gandalf to capture the rogue Gollum, I caught the creature on the Dead Marshes in Mordor, bringing him to the halls of Thrandruil where he was then questioned. From there, I travelled to the Shire."

"And you..." he began slowly, turning to me, "speaker of few words...Do you hail from the Dunedain like your companion?"

I nodded, meeting his eyes. "Yes,"

"And you are a Ranger?" he asked, frowning slightly.

"Yes," I said with a small smile, "I may appear young, Strider, but I have been trained in the ways of the Ranger for many years."

His reflecting smile was rueful. "I wouldn't doubt it."

"Indeed," Walker spoke up, surprising me, "she fights very well. There is far more to her than meets the eye."

I turned to her sharply, shocked by her words. I had not expected her to stand up for me in that way. Truly, Walker was constantly surprising me.

"Ah," Strider said, nodding as he looked at me again, though more carefully than before. "I apologize for insulting you, Amir, but I am sure you realize that most Rangers who are chosen for quests are usually much older than you appear to be." There was a friendly twinkle in his eye now, and I relaxed, finding myself liking him.

"Yes, I am aware of that." And then I laughed slightly, "I always wondered why Gandalf chose me, out of all of the others who could have easily taken my place."

"Gandalf chooses individuals for a weighty reason, I know that," Strider commented, and Walker nodded.

Silence replaced our conversation, and only the crackling of the fire and the Hobbit's steady breathing sounded in the room.

* * *

It was at midnight when the distant screeching of the Nazgûl met my ears, startling me out of the doze I had fallen into. A non-visible, though terrifying, shadow passed across the room, and I watched Strider jump up from his chair, having fallen asleep, and put his hand on the hilt of his sword as he made his way to the window. Rising, I followed him, feeling Walker behind me, and I stopped by the window, gazing out to the street below.

"What is happening?" a voice asked, and I looked down to see that Frodo had awakened and was standing next to me.

"It's the Nazgûl," I whispered, touching his shoulder. His eyes widened.

"The Ringwraiths?" Frodo asked, and Strider shushed him.

"Do not speak of them when they are so near!" he warned.

We all fell quiet, listening to the pounding of hooves on the road coming back toward Bree.

I watched in horror as the Nazgûl appeared, riding into the sleepy town and sweeping into the Prancing Pony, their black swords drawn. All of us gazed as the Ringwraiths rode, screeching terribly, out of the inn, clearly understanding they had been tricked.

Dark whispers crept into my mind again, and I looked down at Frodo, who was watching their departure from Bree as though he were possessed.

"Frodo?" I prompted, and he shook his head as though to clear it, his breath coming heavily.

"What are they?" he asked, his voice slightly shaky.

"They were once men," Strider answered quietly. "Great Kings of Men. Then Sauron the deceiver gave to them Nine Rings of Power. Blinded by their greed they took them without question, one by one falling into darkness and now they are slaves to his will. They are the Nazgûl, Ringwraiths, neither living or dead,"

"At all times," Walker began, "they feel the presence of the Ring...drawn to the power of the One. They will never stop hunting you," she finished, meeting the Ringbearer's eyes.

Silence reigned for a moment.

"You must sleep now, Frodo. A long, hard day of travel awaits us in the morning," Strider spoke with gentleness as he touched the Hobbit's shaking shoulder. Clearly, the weight of the Ring's power had been heavy upon him.

Nodding slowly, he moved away from the window, and climbed into bed. Soon, as though seeing the Ringwraiths so near had been a physical burden, his breathing soon matched the other sleeping Hobbit's.

* * *

**Thank-you very much for reading! **** Reviews would make me jump up and down – I'm not even kidding. I've never published work online before, and I'm excited to see if I manage to get my story read…I will be publishing Chapter 3 soon. I have actually written the entire Volume I, and am half-way through Volume II, just so you know. I will keep uploading completed chapters if there seems to be some people reading my work…**


	3. Weathertop

**Chapter Three – Weathertop**

I stayed awake the entire night, keeping my senses constantly aware for signs of the Shadow or Darkness. Thankfully, there was no other evidence of evil that night, and morning came quickly after the climactic entry and departure of the Ringwraiths.

Rousing the Hobbits, however, was a task in itself. They were apparently unused to rising at such hours as Rangers did, and they grumbled amongst themselves about missing breakfast while they packed up their belonging. From what I'd heard in my travels and from reading literature, Hobbits ate at many intervals throughout the day, indeed, as much as eight meals.

As soon as we were outside the gates of Bree, I breathed a sigh of relief that everything had gone as Gandalf had planned: we had found the four Hobbits, and we were being led by Strider, the mysterious, though kind, Ranger. What I found strange, however, was the absence of Gandalf himself. Why had he been unable to meet us in Bree? I frowned as we walked down the road, hoping that he had not met the Nazgûl. I did my best not to worry about him, for I knew well that he could hold his own against the Nazgûl, as he had done many times in the past.

The day was the finest I had seen since my departure from the North: the sun was shining brightly, illuminating the dew on the grass and oak leaves. I was glad that we were no longer running, since I wasn't sure if I would be able to continue doing so without sufficient rest. If there was one thing I despised, it was running. Unfortunately, many instances in my life had required it. Unlike Elves, who can run for days without becoming weary, I was like many humans who preferred rest in between runs.

Although the Hobbits must have been weary from their previous travels before Bree, they were happy to share their tales with me. I listened with interest as their story unfolded, often told from one or more of Sam, Pippin, Merry, and Frodo's perspectives.

It had all begun at Bilbo Baggin's 111th and Frodo's 33rd birthday party seventeen years ago. Frodo had not known of the Ring's existence in Bilbo's collection before this day, when the older Hobbit slipped it on when he had made his closing speech. He had disappeared into the air, much to the shock of the attendees. At Gandalf's instruction, Bilbo then passed the Ring onto his adoptive nephew before he left for Rivendell. Throughout Gandalf's conversation with Frodo regarding the growing disquiet in Middle Earth some years later, Sam listened in for Merry, Pippin, and their friend Fredeger, since they had sensed something brewing with Frodo. Inevitably Sam was caught "gardening" beneath the window by Gandalf, but Gandalf took him into the room alongside Frodo and continued the conversation.

When the time finally came for Frodo to leave Bag End (which he sold), Pippin and Sam came along. Gandalf had promised to return before Frodo left, but he had not. To their collective surprise, Merry had then caught up to them by horse and they continued on through the Old Forest. One night they encountered the High Elves led by Gildor Inglorion and spoke to them around their fire, a story which Sam told with much enthusiasm, having taken a great liking to Elves in general.

Old Man Willow had caused them trouble in the depths of the Old Forest while they rode on, but the great Tom Bombadil had saved them from the tree's clutches and offered them rest in his home. I watched their eyes as they recounted the lovely meal and the company of Tom's equally lovely wife (Goldberry, daughter of the River), the songs which were sung, and the peace they had felt. It was Tom Bombadil who suggested they go to Bree, and from there, their journey then turned more frightening and dark. They had already fled once from the Nazgûl in Crick Hollow, they told me, where they had been given their short swords. When their tale came to an end, I remembered that these were no mere Hobbits, these were truly courageous characters!

Apple trees grew alongside the road at one point, and Strider stopped to allow the Hobbits to grab as many as they could hold, stuffing them hastily into their packs. I plucked a few for myself, offering one to Walker. She took it with a small "Thank-you" and I bowed my head, forgetting to stop myself. She just raised an eyebrow and bit into the apple's glossy skin, moving away from me.

* * *

When afternoon turned to dusk, the oak and apple trees had receded completely, leaving us in a land filled with grassy hills jutting with stones and endless fields of shimmering gold. Strider abandoned the road at this point, and began leading us along a ridge that ended at a rocky promontory of some kind.

Unlike the beautiful morning we had been fortunate to experience, the rain returned again at this time, hurling down large drops of rain on us as we slogged on. A chilly wind began to blow, biting through my clothes and causing me to wrap my cloak around myself as we trudged along the ridge. The Hobbits had started to stumble and slip on the wet grass, exhaustion setting in. Sam's pony, Bill, was also finding the travel on the slippery grass difficult, but he was overall a quiet, amiable horse that I soon began to understand the Hobbit's affection for. Walker, up ahead with Strider, appeared unaffected by the toils of the journey, and I wondered how it was that she could remain so strong.

They stopped at the peak of the hill among the ruins of stones, and waited for the Hobbits and I to catch up.

"This is where we shall spend the night," Strider said, and I did my best to not show my enthusiasm at the prospect of a rest. I was as weary as the Hobbits.

"What is this place?" the taller Hobbit, Pippin, asked. He looked around the area with curiosity, as did the others.

"Weathertop," Walker answered slowly. "Much before my time, during the reign of Elendil of Arnor, this was a great watchtower. One of the three palantíri was placed here inside the tower, but the Witch-King of Angmar, the leader of the Nazgûl, destroyed the watchtower. Only the ruins lay on the hill now." With this, she gestured to the large stones that were scattered along the hill.

A howling wind whipped over the ridge suddenly, jostling all of us. Walker met my eyes, a lock of her dark hair falling across her cheek, making her appear abruptly younger. "We must find the shelter of the ruins."

"Come, there is a cave!" Strider called from nearby.

Following Walker's lead, I descended the hill with the Hobbits until we reached Strider.

"In all my days I've never felt so glad to see a cave," Sam muttered as the Hobbits and I entered the surprisingly large rock shelter: me stooping, of course. Grinning at Sam's words, I aided Strider in his effort to make a fire from some old firewood he had found, left behind by Rangers.

When the fire was roaring, I sank onto the floor with my back to the cave wall, rolling my neck to the side. There was something about this place, Weathertop, which made me feel uneasy. No matter how far I stretched my senses, I couldn't put a finger on what it was. Frowning to myself, I searched the area once again for what I was feeling, but it evaded me.

I looked up, and I saw that Walker had been gazing at me from across the fire.

"Is there something wrong, Amir?" she asked, and I sighed, frustrated at myself.

I shook my head. "I don't know...but there is," I paused, looking up at the cave ceiling, "something about this place making me uneasy-" I stopped abruptly, my eyes catching a carving on the far wall. Rising suddenly, I strode to the far wall, crouching down to peer at the writing. I smiled to myself, recognizing Gandalf's signature Elven "G", along with the number "2".

"Gandalf was here," I said slowly, tracing the marking with my finger. I looked up to meet Strider's eyes. "Two days ago he passed through," I finished, and Walker frowned.

Strider moved over to crouch next to me. "I wonder what made him fly from here?" he wondered aloud as he read over the symbols.

"The Nazgûl?" Walker offered, and I glanced at her, her words echoing my own thoughts.

"Yes..." Strider began slowly, rising. "That could be so."

Frodo spoke up from around the fire, his expression deeply concerned. "Do you think he encountered the Nine, Strider?"

The tall Ranger sighed, "I cannot know, I can only suppose that was what happened."

"He told us he would meet us in Bree," Merry piped up as I rose from my position and stood by the fire, "What was he doing out here?"

"Something chased him," Frodo remarked darkly.

I nodded, returning my gaze to Gandalf's symbols on the wall briefly. "Knowing Gandalf, he wouldn't want us to search for him. If there is something on his trail, then we can only hope to meet him in Rivendell."

Strider met my eyes, his weary face taking on a kindly expression. "I believe you are right."

I shrugged my shoulders, and Walker smiled faintly. "Come and eat, young one."

Sitting next to Sam, who was busy cooking something that smelled delicious, I attempted to help the Hobbit. He fended me off, insisting that I rest.

"I hope you like this," he said, "we have this quite a bit in the Shire."

Handing me a wooden bowl filled with steaming food, I accepted it with a slight bow of the head and a "thank-you". Sam blushed, turning to serve Walker, who had been watching us in amusement.

The dinner was wonderful, and I was amazed that the Hobbits could conjure up food out of almost anything: roots, leaves, stalks, berries, small fruits and vegetables. Leaning back against the wall, I thanked Sam once again, and he ducked his head, insisting it was a pleasure. Although I did not know many Hobbits, these ones were certainly likeable and polite, and full of stories as well. Merry and Pippin, the most robust of the group, carried on a fine tale of one of their escapades in the Shire while we all sat before the fire, glad for its continuous warmth.

When night had fallen completely, Pippin stretched, and said: "Well, I don't know about you lot, but I think I'll turn in for the night..."

"Me too." Merry piped up, "I feel the journey's toils in my limbs." He rose alongside Pippin, going through their small packs for bed rolls.

Once the Hobbits were all settled toward the far end of the cave, we three – I, Strider, and Walker – were quiet as we listened to the crickets, the cracking of the fire, and the wind in the long grass.

* * *

Although the sound of the wind was soothing, something about it had me feeling uneasy. Looking out past the fire and into the inky darkness which had so quickly descended, I watched for a danger I sensed would fall upon us.

Walker seemed to read my thoughts. "What do you see?" she asked softly from beside me, and I frowned, unsure of how to answer her.

"I see nothing," I admitted, "but there is...something; a danger lurking somewhere."

Strider straightened, his brow furrowing slightly. "What is this?"

"She has sensed a danger around Weathertop." Walker answered, and from the corner of my eye, I could tell she was looking at me intently.

"I am not sure," I corrected, and then the feeling stirred again; closing in. "But something dangerous lies in wait outside, I believe."

"I feel what you feel." she said quietly, "It is 'the sense found deep in the bones'..." I nodded, recognizing the common Dunedain saying.

I glanced at Strider, who was now standing, with his hood pulled over his head again. "I will scan the area, and see what danger I may find. My own bones tell me we cannot be less careful."

Walker rose as well, "I will accompany you."

I cocked my head to one side. "And I will stay here?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

Both nodded. "We will be back shortly," Strider said. And without a sound, the two were gone, leaving me alone with the sleeping Hobbits. Or so I thought.

Turning around, I heard Pippin whispering animatedly. "There ought to be more food, you think?"

"I am as hungry as a bear." Merry put in, and Frodo groaned. "Oh you two, if there was more food, Sam is likely saving it for tomorrow. Think of other things than your hunger."

"Go back to sleep," Sam suggested.

"How can one sleep with hunger gnawing at his stomach? Surely a little bite won't hurt." Merry commented, and I heard Pippin agree. In the next moment, the two Hobbits were next to the fire.

I narrowed my eyes, "I thought you two were asleep."

Pippin shrugged, "We were..."

"But now we're hungry!" Merry finished, fishing through the food pack.

Sighing, I made a quick decision. "Well, eat a quick bite, but be sure to leave enough for tomorrow." Pippin and Merry nodded, munching on uraka root as they sat before the fire.

And that is when I felt it: an icy cold darkness stealing over the cave. Rising suddenly, and startling the Hobbits, I looked toward the entrance as I threw on my hood and drew my sword. It glowed a very dark green; like jade. Immediately, I was certain the blade spoke of the danger I had sensed and now felt closing in terribly.

"Find your swords." I said tersely to the two Hobbits, "And wake up Frodo and Sam." Wide-eyed, they dropped their food and ran to the back of the cave.

Walking past the mouth of the cave, I was greeted first by the sweet night air, and then...I knew. The putrid scent of the Nine met my nose, and I nearly reeled backwards in disgust. Even in the inky darkness, I could still make out the terrible outline of the five horse-less Ringwraiths, their gleaming black swords drawn as they advanced toward me.

Casting aside my fear, I gazed at them, calling upon my reserves of courage.

"What you seek you shall never have, as long as I draw breath!" I yelled, and the Witch King threw back his shaggy head and laughed, the crown glowing terribly under the moonlight.

"You may not draw breath for much longer, Ranger," he hissed. Then he thrust his sword at me, resulting in my hasty sidestep. Throwing all my weight into the blow, I aimed for the Witch King's shoulder. A second Ringwraith caught my blow with his sword, and the Witch King, seeing that my sword was tied up, jumped forward toward the cave.

"_No!_" I cried, and twisted the Ringwraith's sword away from him, vaguely hearing it land in the grass nearby.

I ran full-on toward the cave, grabbing an end of a log in the fire, the other side spouting flames. Lifting it, I waved it at the other Ringwraiths, who recoiled as their black robes caught on fire. Screeching, they backed away, allowing me the space to grab my bow from my shoulder and fit an arrow onto it.

I quickly glanced around me, and saw that Merry and Pippin had caught on to the fire trick and were waving burning logs at a Ringwraith, who screamed as its cloaks were lit afire. Spinning around to avoid the blow I sensed was coming from the Ringwraith in front of me; I loosened my arrow in its face, hitting it square in the mouth. Howling, it staggered backwards, allowing me to search for Frodo, who was nowhere to be seen.

"O Elbereth!" I heard his brave voice cry from an invisible location, "Githoniel!"

"_Frodo!"_ I called in desperation, dropping my bow and running toward Sam, who had been suddenly backed into the cave wall by a Ringwraith. Chopping at the undead warrior's back, I grabbed the terrified Hobbit and pushed him toward Pippin and Merry, who had succeeded in holding off another Ringwraith. Sam saved me from a blow from another Ringwraith, but a movement to my left caught my eye. Sam's Ringwraith, having regained its composure, threw a savage blow in my direction, catching me off guard. I barely had the time to block his sword, watching in the corner of my eye as the Ringwraith Pippin and Merry were battling ran screeching down the hill, its body aflame.

Pushing out hard, I forced the Ringwraith in front of me back a few steps. I twisted away from its answering jab, my breathing heavy. Grabbing another log, I was about to retaliate when I heard it.

Even the Ringwraiths paused as the scream, bloodcurdling and terrible, cut through the night air. The cloud that had momentarily hid the light of the moon passed by, and in the hazy light I saw the Witch King's sword retracting from a spot in the air. In the next moment, Frodo appeared, collapsing in a heap as he pulled off the Ring.

"Frodo!" I called, feeling panic set in. I began running toward him, but my movements seemed slow, as though the air had turned to water.

Shadows came from the hill and I saw that it was Walker and Strider, their swords drawn and slashing at the Ringwraiths, who were retreating with horrible screams of their own. The Witch King turned and fled after the four others. I watched, frozen in place, as Strider bent over the dark haired Hobbit.

"No..." I gasped, and Walker moved beside me.

"You are hurt," she murmured, and I followed her gaze to the hand which was clutching my side. My eyes widened in shock. I had not even noticed I had been injured, let alone that I was holding myself in that way. Moving my hand, I sheathed my sword quickly.

"I'm fine," I ground out, feeling the burning pain for the first time. Stumbling toward Frodo, I bent to my knees next to Strider, who had exposed the wound on the Hobbit's chest. It was a dark blue, almost black, colour and it seemed to glow with the evil that lingered from the Nazgûl blade. My heart fell at the sight and I looked to Strider, who was focused on his task.

"This is beyond my skill. The blade shattered and left a piece deep within the wound," he breathed at last, leaning back. I swallowed thickly before speaking.

"I do have healing abilities, Strider, but never have I tested them with a wound such as this..." I trailed off, listening to Frodo's shaky breathing. I touched his forehead, feeling how warm it was; too warm. The fever from the black blade would come soon enough, and from there...I shook my head.

"Do what you can," Strider said, moving back. I leaned down by Frodo's ear.

"Frodo, this may hurt, but I am going to try and heal you, if I can," I explained quietly, and he moaned a little.

I lay my hand over the wound, and the Hobbit's breathing hitched in pain, making my heart constrict. Focusing my energy on the wound, I poured what strength I could into the transfer. I felt the skin close up and cover the wound, but when I probed deeper, all I felt was the blackness of Mordor and I recoiled. Strider, who I hadn't noticed crouching next to me, put a hand on my shoulder.

"What is wrong?" he asked, and I realized I was shaking. On my forehead were beads of sweat.

I exhaled heavily, meeting his eyes. "This is beyond my skill as well, Strider. The darkness has run deep."

His jaw tightened, and he glanced at the shivering Hobbit. "You have contained the wound, Amir, and that is far better than I could have done."

I shook my head, brushing Frodo's hair off his forehead and holding my hand to his skin. "He is getting a fever, Strider. It will only worsen."

There was a long silence, as we gazed at the unconscious Ringbearer.

"As soon as the sun rises, we will fly to Rivendell, for that is all the choice we have," Strider said finally, his voice belying his inner weariness.

I nodded, feeling overly weary myself. The pain was beginning to descend heavily now.

"I will take him inside," he murmured, lifting the wounded Hobbit into his arms and walking him into the cave. I knelt on the grass for a moment longer, gathering my strength. Rising, I began to follow, only to bump directly into Walker. Strangely, I had not noticed her there.

"I'm sorry," I apologized, but she held me in place.

"You have done what you can, Amir...Do not blame yourself," she said softly, and I nodded.

"Come," she murmured, gripping my shoulder, "your wounds must be tended as well."

I shook my head, but the movement only made me dizzy. I halted for a moment, my eyes drawn to an object on the ground: the Witch King's blade! Crouching down, and ignoring the pain in my side when I did so, I picked it up by the hilt. Walker's eyes narrowed, and I watched as the blade seemed to waver and then, as though it had never been there, it disappeared with a small hiss. Recoiling slightly, I stood, the black hilt still in my hand.

My eyes met Walker's, and her face was grim.

"I will show that to Strider, but now, come!" she insisted, grabbing my arm and pulling me into the cave.

I vaguely remember being lain down on some relatively soft surface and feeling warm water on my side before blackness took over.

* * *

I suppose I must have fallen into unconsciousness, for when I awoke, it was near midnight and the Hobbits were asleep. Strider and Walker sat by the fire, staring into it in silence. I propped myself on one elbow. In the next second, I realized my side had been bandaged and I was lying on a bed roll. Walker glanced over at me, having heard the changed tempo of my breathing. She rose, stepping over to me.

"Are you alright?" she whispered, crouching down.

I rubbed my eyes, and met her gaze. "Yes, thank-you. I did not mean to fall unconscious."

She shook her head, "Of course not, Amir. You were in pain and exhausted."

"How is Frodo?" I asked, suddenly remembering my panicked concern for the Hobbit.

Walker sighed, "He is calm, but the darkness is taking all his energy to battle. Hobbits are hardy folk, but they are no match against a Morgul blade." She looked away, "You are lucky your wound is only a graze."

I frowned, "We cannot lose him, Walker." My voice had taken on a desperate tone, and I paused, clearing my throat. "Isn't there anything I can do?" I began to rise, but she held me down with her hand on my shoulder.

"The only thing you can do is rest yourself, for you will need your strength for the rest of the journey to Rivendell," she whispered, and I nodded.

"Sleep now, while you can," she intoned, and I lay back down slowly, feeling the exhaustion return...

* * *

**And this is definitely where the action starts to climb…I have a bit of a tough time striking a balance between the content that was originally in the book versus things that were added in the movie: I have spent countless hours debating on whose version, Peter Jackson or Tolkien's, was more befitting for my own story. In the end, I think I have come up with some balance between the two, as well as some of my own twists that are thrown in. **** Please review and let me know how I am doing! Chapter Four will be uploaded soon…As I said before, I have all of these Sixteen chapters of Volume I completed, so do indicate if you think I should keep uploading.**


	4. Flight to Rivendell

**Chapter Four – Flight to Rivendell**

I awoke before dawn, feeling slightly more rested. Rising, I saw that Strider and Walker were standing at the mouth of the cave, waiting for the first rays of sun to penetrate the inky darkness. Yawning widely, I stretched and made my way so that I was standing to the left of Strider.

"Good morning," I muttered to each of them, bowing my head slightly. The tall Ranger turned to me, a soft smile on his face, which seemed to have less lines of weariness.

"Good morning," he returned, "How do you feel?"

I shrugged a little, running a hand through my tangled hair. "Well, thank-you." I paused, frowning and turning to look at the sleeping forms of the Hobbits toward the back of the cave. "It's Frodo I am worried about."

Walker met my eyes. "As are we."

"I did not think it prudent to leave in haste last night, when the little folk were so weary, but now I question my judgement. Time is now our enemy." Strider said, exhaling heavily.

I shook my head, "I believe your judgement is sound, Strider. We would have made no progress stumbling with weariness in the dark."

"Indeed," Walker agreed quietly, and my eyes flashed to the horizon where I saw the first crimson beginnings of the coming sun.

"Ah, there she is," Strider breathed, and then he turned to me. "Wake them up, Amir, for now is the time we must fly."

* * *

When the Hobbits had been roused out of their slumber, the task soon came to lifting Frodo onto Bill, who had been happily munching the grass outside of the cave. Once this was done and the Ringbearer's comfort was ensured, we set off, the Hobbits strangely quiet, a fact which made me feel uneasy. They were usually so happy and lighthearted, with ever a good tale to spin and a bit of wisdom at the ready. Now, with the silence, I wished more than ever to lift their heavy hearts, but I knew there was nothing I could do. As Strider had spoken that morning, time was indeed our enemy, but it also, if we made haste, could be our salvation.

The days after Weathertop were long, harsh, and filled with uneasy silence. Shrieks came periodically from the forest surrounding us, but the Ringwraiths did not make their presence known. We ran for hours at a time, and the Hobbits struggled to keep up, their short legs making the task more difficult. Each took turns riding on Bill, a kind of horse that clearly did not travel very often, if at all. Despite this, the pony trotted along next to us with its small rider of that moment, seemingly happy and carefree, unlike the rest of the Company...

I suppose the rain that fell did not improve things much, either. Or the lack of food, which caused us to dig up roots and chew random leaves as we went along. The Hobbits initially grumbled amongst each other about this, but soon even they became quiet, hardly voicing anything at all as they continued to run. Their endurance was impressive. When daylight faded into night, the cold descended, causing the Hobbits to huddle together for warmth. Even for me, since my clothes were constantly wet or damp, it was cold. Yet still we kept on, running for hours at a time in a silence that was intermittently broken by the distant shrieks of the Ringwraiths.

The tension that followed from the cave continued on into the forest, as Strider turned around every so often to round up the stumbling Hobbits.

"Hurry! We must make haste!" he would cry, and Pippin, Merry, and Sam would quicken their footsteps for a little while, only to slow down again as more weariness descended on them. I felt terrible for their weariness, but it was necessary if the Ringbearer was to live.

"We're days from Rivendell. He'll never make it!" Sam yelled up to Strider, after being coaxed into walking faster once again.

"Such thoughts will never aid him," Walker said, having been walking next to him, "Do not hold such darkness in your heart! It may be that Frodo's strength keeps him from the embrace of death,"

"Walker is right," I commented, and Sam's eyes met mine. "There is still hope. I understand now that Hobbits are strong folk." He nodded, and the Hobbits lengthened their strides, a new determination lighting up their previously grim faces.

I checked periodically on Frodo, who was slumped forward on the horse, his face growing whiter as the day progressed. I wondered if the horse's movement was aggravating the wound and causing him increased pain, but there was no better mode of transport that I could offer him.

When we stopped briefly to catch our breath, I spoke softly in the Ringbearer's ear, rousing him out of his pained doze. "Frodo...do not fall into the Shadow! You have a strong soul, Ringbearer. Take some of my strength and defend against the Shadow." Touching his forehead, I transferred energy through to him. His back straightened slightly, his face losing some of its deathly pallor.

"Thank-you Lady Amir," he mumbled, calling me by a non-existent title once again, as he continued to do.

I shook my head, smiling a little and moving my hand from his forehead as we resumed walking again. My own pain from the Morgul blade had been subdued slightly, but whenever I stumbled, it reared again like an angry horse. I did my best to put this out of my mind, for Frodo's wound was far more serious and dire.

* * *

Later, we stopped again, walking slowly into a small clearing, which held large forms in the hazy forest light. I drew my sword, as did Strider, but a rare laugh came from his mouth once he saw what the forms were: stone trolls! Recalling Gandalf's stories of Bilbo Baggin's adventure with the Dwarves, I smiled, as did Walker, at the sight.

"Look, Frodo. It's Mr. Bilbo's trolls," Sam said, hovering over the ever weakening Hobbit. Frodo lurched up and gasped, his pale eyes widening as he surfaced from whatever nightmare he had fallen into.

"Mr. Frodo?" Sam touched his face, and then turned to me quickly in fright. "He's going cold!"

Moving toward the Hobbit, I saw that Sam was right: Frodo's strength was waning, and I did not know if I could afford to give him more of mine when I was feeling so weak. Strider, clearly reading the thoughts on my face, gripped my shoulder.

"There is nothing more you can do, Amir." There was a warning in his tone, and I sighed wearily, stepping back from the fading Hobbit. Sadness swept over me.

"Is he going to die?" Pippin asked, his voice trembling slightly, coming up next to me.

"No," I whispered to them, not certain if this were truth or not, "but he is passing into the world between the living and dead."

"He'll soon become a Wraith like the Nazgûl," Strider finished.

Walker's eyes narrowed, and from where I was, I saw her body tense. My warrior senses exploded a moment before the shrieks sounded from the forest around us, sending horrible chills down my spine.

At the same time, our swords were drawn. Our eyes met.

"They are here!" she hissed, and Strider's expression turned grim as he drew his own sword as well, although slowly.

"What are we going to do?" Merry asked, terror evident on his face as he gripped the hilt of his sword.

Strider ignored his question, straightening his shoulders as he turned to me. "Amir, do you know the Athelas plant?" I nodded, familiar with its properties. "Sam, follow Amir and help her gather this plant. It will slow the poison. Hurry!"

Once I had briskly introduced the healing plant to Sam, we began to gather what we could find. Sam, being a gardener, had a good eye and he compiled the majority of the plant as the spine chilling screeches came nearer. We returned hastily to the small clearing. I was about to call out to Strider, when I saw that he, Walker, and an Elven man were kneeling around Frodo, who had been lain on the grass. The Elf's golden hair glimmered slightly, but I could not see his face well. Where had he come from? Was he perhaps an Elf from the House of Elrond?

"Strider?" I called quietly, my hand on the hilt of my sword as I neared the three.

He looked up, relief showing on his face when he saw it was me. "Amir. Come, help us."

Kneeling down and catching a glimpse of the Elf's noble face, I saw that Frodo's wound had once again been split open. The wound itself was a terrible dark blue colour, as it had been before.

"He is fading," the Elven man said softly, "He will not last."

I tucked a strand of escaping hair behind my ear. I was about to place my hand over his wound to heal it when Walker's hand caught my arm in a steadfast grip.

"No..." she said, looking into my confused face, "Keep your strength. Let the Athelas do what it can."

Frowning slightly, I nodded wearily. Together, Strider and I chewed the plant into a paste, placing it carefully over Frodo's wound. He hissed, whimpering in pain as we did so. To my surprise, he did not cry out or scream like most Men I had seen with wounds as dire as his on the battlefield.

"I have been searching for you for two days," the Elf continued, "There are five Wraiths behind you, but where the other four are, I cannot say."

"Glorfindel," Strider began, addressing the Elf, "We-"

He broke off abruptly, for suddenly there was the sound of thundering hooves in the distance.

The Elf, Glorfindel, stood. "They are upon us!" he whisper-cried and Strider pulled Frodo so that he was standing. The Hobbit swayed but caught himself, and I touched his shoulder, sending a small spark of energy through his body. Reaching out, Glorfindel lifted him onto the white horse standing nearby, the hooves bearing the Nazgûl coming nearer and nearer with every passing second.

"Asfaloth will know the way across River Bruinen, Frodo. Ride hard!" the Elf ensured, handing the dazed Hobbit his reigns. A new light came into Frodo's eyes as Glorfindel turned the horse around, and just moments before the Nazgûl broke into the clearing, he rode out of sight on the speeding Elven horse.

Sam's voice cut through my jumbled thoughts.

"They are upon us!" he cried, drawing his sword simultaneously with Merry and Pippin. Not five, but the entire Nine Riders crashed through the underbrush, thundering toward us. To my surprise, no longer were they cloaked and hooded in black, but they now rode in white and grey. With the absence of the black attire, they were more frightful and raging than ever...

Having sheathed her sword, Walker loosened an arrow at the Witch King. He wrenched his head to the side, the arrow missing his helm by a finger-width. Strider swept the Hobbits out of the way, and I dove to the side, narrowly escaping being beheaded by the Witch King's broad blade.

Rolling upright, I swung at a passing Ringwraith's leg. He screeched in agony, rounding his horse and bearing down on me. I dodged out of the way, jarring my shoulder rather hard against a nearby tree. Dropping my sword, I grabbed my bow, firing a hasty arrow. Catching it in the mouth, the creature howled. Grabbing at its face, it flopped over like a dead fish onto the ground, where Pippin neatly cut off one of its arms. At the corner of my eye, I could see Aragorn, Merry, and Sam fighting two undead warriors while Glorfindel and Walker shot arrows at the retreating backs of the remaining six Wraiths.

"_Ayah!_" Strider shouted, dodging one Wraith's sword and clashing with another. Picking up my sword, I was about to strike out against the fallen Rider when I heard Walker's warning cry.

"Amir!" she called, and I turned just in time to see the second Wraith throw his black spear in my direction. Twisting away and slipping on a grouping of rocks, I felt the spear graze my thigh. A choked cry came from my throat, but I remained standing. The Wraith must have smelled the blood on my aggravated side and thigh, for he swung his blade tirelessly at me, sensing my weakness. The putrid smell that rose from the undead body was nearly crippling, but I kept on. Pippin charged the Wraith, distracting it, and I glanced quickly over to the others.

Dashing across the clearing, I saved Walker from being impaled by the one-armed Wraith's second spear. Glancing at me briefly, she then turned back to parry a blow from the first Wraith, who seemed intent on destroying her.

"Strider!" Sam hollered in desperation, having been backed against a tree. Jumping forward, Strider twisted the second Wraith's sword and, flinging it in the air, I distantly heard it land with a thump somewhere in the forest nearby. Glorfindel shot an arrow at the Wraith, sinking deeply into the undead warrior's shoulder.

"Make for the Ford!" he cried, and I watched as the third Wraith backed away from Pippin's blade. It screeched to its companions, and together they began to retreat. Mounting their horses, they swept past us, their bodies emitting an eerie glow.

Strider passed by, shouting something I could not make out. Grasping Pippin's shoulder, we broke into a run after the others, joining them ahead of us. Leaping over underbrush and dodging trees, we followed the lead of Glorfindel through the dense forest. Branches whipped at my face as I pushed onward, stumbling once and awhile on rocks and pits in the forest floor.

Leading us onto a narrow earth road, the Elf beckoned us to hurry. "They are nearing the River!" he called. I squinted ahead to where the blurry grey figures rode, cursing my non-Elven eye sight for the thousandth time.

Breaking toward the crest of hill before the river bank, we all came to an abrupt halt when we saw what was to transpire below. There was a distant surging sound, like the rumbling of faraway thunder as the Witch King advanced across the Ford to Frodo, who sat courageously tall on Asfaloth and held his sword high.

"You will have neither Ring or me!" he called, and the Witch King threw back his shaggy head and laughed. Urging his horse forward once more, for the beast was clearly not comfortable with the waters, the Rider advanced a few feet. The three Wraiths had rejoined the others from behind, but they stalled at the River's edge, perhaps awaiting their leader's direction. Dark words flew from the Witch King's mouth, and I watched in horror as Frodo's sword shattered into several slivers. Asfaloth reared.

I stepped forward, glancing in fear at the others, but Strider stayed me from action by laying a hand on my shoulder. He pointed wordlessly to Glorfindel, who was gazing down the far end of River Bruinen, seemingly awaiting something. Merry, Pippin, and Sam were tense as bow stings next to me, but it seemed as though none of us could speak; the Witch King's curse had not only broken Frodo's sword, but it had cleaved our tongues to the roof of our mouths and locked our muscles in place.

My heart fell when four Wraiths stepped into the River after their leader, watching as Frodo sat completely still on the Elven steed. Suddenly, the distant surging sound grew to a roar, and to my left, I saw a rising mountain of water moving like the wind toward the Nazgûl. The Witch King shrieked in anger as he sighted the river water riding toward them. Glorfindel let out a triumphant cry as Strider jumped forward, shouting: "_Run!_"

Moving swiftly down the small hillside, I heard the remaining Ringwraiths screech when they realized they had been left with no escape. Their black steeds ran toward the River in fear as we descended toward them, the roar of the oncoming water advancing with incredible speed. The five Wraiths in the middle of the River turned back to the shore, but they were far too slow. The crest of water, mounted by shimmering forms of white horses, would crash within mere moments.

But then time turned slow as it happened, drawing out the moment into eternity.

A Wraith still on the shore struck out at me in desperation as it passed by, and I ducked, avoiding being beheaded once again. Reaching down with its bony hand, it grabbed the back of my tunic, dragging me along with it. Terror struck me then, and I dropped my sword, struggling against the Rider's grip. There were shouts from behind, but all I could feel was the terrible darkness transferring from the Wraith to me. I felt the river rocks bruise my legs as the Rider entered the water, and I managed to pull out my dagger. In a last, desperate move, I buried the blade into the Rider's steadfast hand. Dropping immediately, I fell into the River, staggering to my feet on the rocks.

This was when the surging water crashed onto the trapped Nazgûl, hitting me on my wounded side…

I felt myself being swept downstream in the torrent of water, unable to discern up or down. Something jabbed my leg, and when I passed by, I closed my fingers around it. Pulling my head up, I broke the surface, gasping for air. I looked around wildly. I realized I had grabbed onto a tree root, and the bulk of the root system itself was saving me from being swept away again as the water surged past. Dragging myself to the shore, I knelt for a moment on the grass to catch my breath and regain touch with my surroundings.

Glancing across the River, I could see the others stepping into the water, rushing toward the opposite shore. The noble Elf, Glorfindel, reached my side first.

"My Lady, are you alright?" he asked, crouching next to me, his aqua eyes radiating concern.

I coughed, realizing I had been trembling. "Yes, my Lord, thank-you," I answered as well as I could, pushing away the lock of hair that had plastered to my cheek.

"Amir!" I looked up, noticing the advancing Walker. "Are you hurt?"

Shaking my head, I touched my scabbard, noting with horror that my sword was missing. An acute memory of dropping it on the River's edge came back to me suddenly, and I closed my eyes. When I opened them, Strider and the Hobbits had stepped forward.

"How did you get away? We thought the Wraith had got you!" Merry exclaimed.

"You're awfully lucky you weren't swept away like the Wraiths were," Sam said. I smiled waveringly at him as I stood, feeling my clothes cling to my body like a second skin.

At the corner of my eye, I could see that Walker had narrowed her eyes at me; looking me over for injury. Strider spoke from behind her.

"It was a narrow escape, and I do believe we must thank Lord Elrond when we arrive at his gate," he said, moving toward me. "Can you walk?"

I nodded, straightening my back slightly. "Yes," I ground out.

Strider smiled, "And I believe you dropped this." He held out my sword, which he must have retrieved before crossing the River Bruinen. My inner horror evaporated, although later I would note that my one dagger had also been dropped in the desperation of the moment...

* * *

"Thank-you," I said, taking the sword and sheathing it smoothly.

"Come then," Glorfindel intoned, "we have a long walk yet to the gates of Rivendell."

Sam took my hand, tugging me forward as he led Bill onward after the others. I sighed, forcing my legs into walking, although it was the last thing I felt like doing at that moment...

It was much past nightfall by the time we arrived in Rivendell, and I could hear the beautiful voices of the Elves raised in singing, a sound that lifted my heavy heart. The moon illuminated the awe-inspiring forest, which soon humbled before a large, ornate wooden bridge. Upon it stood cloaked figures.

Walker increased her speed, as did Strider, and I had to force myself to catch up.

As I neared the bridge, I could see a tall, finely dressed Elf, whose features spoke of his high rank and blood. My mind clearing, I supposed, in a rush of excitement, that this might be Lord Elrond; the one Gandalf had spoken so highly of! Seeing Strider and Walker at the other end of the bridge, he walked slowly toward them, his arms wide.

"I welcome you all into Rivendell," he began, his voice deep and warm. "You have indeed travelled long and hard. Now you may rest peacefully..."

Walker bowed toward him, a wide smile on her face. "_Mae govannem_, Lord Elrond. It has been too long!"

"Indeed, since when I last saw you, you promised you would return within a week," Lord Elrond said, trying to hide his smile. So Walker knew Lord Elrond! "Ah, but I knew you yearned for the wilds from whence you came, the great mountains and valleys in which you were born! I could not hold you back, my dear, though good sense made me concerned for you."

"Good sense, indeed," Walker returned with a happy laugh, leaving me wondering the nature of their relationship, "Good sense would have made my life a bore, Lord Elrond. Certainly you expected my departure."

"_Mae govannen_, Lord Elrond. We are in your and Glorfindel's debt," Strider said, coming up beside Walker to bow to him. The Hobbits bowed as well, having hopped off of Bill quickly.

"_Suilad, Aragorn_," 'Greetings, Aragorn,' Lord Elrond greeted him with a polite bow of his head.

Walker turned to me as I came up behind them, the smile still on her face. "My Lord, this is the sixth member of the Company, Ranger Amir of the Dunedain."

I bowed slowly and deeply to him, feeling my weariness and pain ebb slightly at being in his presence. "_Mae govannen_, Lord Elrond. It is an honour to meet you."

Lord Elrond smiled kindly at me, surprising me when he took my hand between his own. "It is an honour and pleasure to have you in Rivendell, young Ranger, though your travels be harsh. Come, let us tend to your injuries..."

With this said, Strider and Walker stepped by my side as we all began walking across the moonlit bridge and into the forest before the gates of Rivendell.

"And what of Frodo?" I heard Strider ask, echoing my own thoughts.

"He is calm, and arrived here in time to be healed by our powers," Lord Elrond answered.

Before we came to the gates, another figure stepped forward into the moonlight.

"Welcome," a musical voice greeted us, and when my blurred vision cleared, I saw a beautiful Elf waiting for us on the road leading to the gates. It was then when I recognized her fully: this was Lord Elrond's daughter, Lady Arwen, the Evenstar of her people! In the stories I had been told and heard, she was said to bear a resemblance to Luthien Tinuviel. Indeed, now that my own eyes saw her, I could only agree: the dark black hair framing the pale, regal face; the soft green eyes that bespoke of her inner strength and beauty; the slender nose and ruby lips leading to the slightly pointed chin; the willowy form beneath her dark green robes.

Strider smiled at the sight of her, the expression transforming his weary face. "We meet again, Arwen."

She shook her head when he bowed to her, "It has been long, Aragorn." Turning to Walker, who bowed also, she said, "It has been long also since you have come to Rivendell..." The Lady trailed off, and the rest of her sentence seemed to be communicated through her eyes. Walker laughed a little, rising from her bow.

"Indeed, I have travelled far, Arwen."

Lord Elrond smiled, his grey eyes lit with kindness. "These travels we would all love to hear, but later..." He turned to me concernedly, "Your companion needs tending."

I stepped forward, bowing deeply to the beautiful Elven Lady. "Evenstar, it is beyond honour to be in your presence," I said quietly, struck by her incredible beauty. I could only imagine how I must have appeared: my face cut by branches, body drenched by the River water, and Ranger clothes bloodied by wounds.

She laughed softly, a sound which soothed my ears. "Ah, young Ranger, you speak far too highly."

I was about to say something in return, but I stopped, feeling a wave of dizziness take over as the black poison from the Morgul blade spread pain throughout my body. I clutched my side, and Strider moved forward to grip my shoulder in support. Walker stepped to my other shoulder, and I leaned against her wearily.

"She has been cut by a Morgul blade," Strider said tersely.

Lady Arwen frowned, stepping forward and cupping my chin so that she could look into my eyes. A power probed at my mind, and I was about to push up a barrier, but I forced myself to halt the automatic reaction. Warmth washed over my body, but as soon as it came, the power retreated and the Lady retracted her hand from my face, leaving me in a daze.

"Come, young Ranger, I will help thee..." she said, trading significant looks with Strider and Walker. She took my hand, and although I struggled at first, she guided me up the inclining road and through the gates.

Inside, she led me up some winding stairs to a room which overlooked the canyon. I was in no state to admire it at that moment, for the icy claws began to steal away my body's warmth as she and an attendant rid me of the bow, quiver, sword, and daggers. I hissed in pain when they very gently helped me lay on the comfortable bed. I closed my eyes when she touched her fingers to my forehead and leaned down to whisper in my ear.

"_Ala wilith_. You are with us now..."

Her voice echoed in my mind beautifully. I opened my mouth to thank her, but I fell instead into a deep, dreamless sleep...

* * *

**Thanks again for reading. :) Let me know if I should keep uploading chapters...Please do review, since to me reviews are almost better than being healed by Elves in Rivendell, hehe. If Rivendell was really a place, I would love to visit it. Elves are wonderful creatures, and the places they inhabit always seem to be so serene and beautiful.**


	5. Awakening & In the Company of the Elves

**Chapter Five – Awakening and In the Company of Elves**

When I woke up, the first thing I observed was that it was morning, and the sun was shining through the white curtains which had been drawn across the large window. I shifted slightly, enjoying the comfort of the bed and its many pillows, revelling in the softness of the sheets and the rich aroma that surrounded me. I had heard many stories of the finery and delicacy of anything Elven-made, but never had I experienced it in such as way before. Sighing, I allowed my eyes to roam the ceiling, completely relaxed for the first time since I began the journey.

"Ah, so you are awake at last!" A familiar voice said quietly, and I started, propping myself up on one elbow to locate where the voice had come from. My eyes landed on a grey robed figure who was sitting in a chair nearby. My heart leaped into my throat when I recognized who it was: Gandalf! Of course it was, for who else could sneak up on me like that?

"You made it," I smiled, and he returned my smile warmly. "I thought the worst for you, Gandalf. You had us all worried."

"So have you," he pointed out, and my smile faded as I frowned.

"How long have I been sleeping?" I asked, and he shook his head.

"Two days," Gandalf exhaled heavily, looking toward the window, clearly deep in thought. "Perhaps it was not good of me to send you on such a journey alone, Amira."

"Why not?" I retorted with a chuckle, drawing myself up slowly until I was leaning against the headboard.

"You were weary, child, very weary. I think I overestimate your strength at times," and then he laughed, "Or maybe not!" Gandalf met my curious gaze, "You certainly do not give up easily, my dear."

I cocked my head to the side, wondering what he was referring to. He smiled in understanding.

"Your wounds were much deeper than had been anticipated." He answered, and I nodded.

My old curiosity burned suddenly. "And where did you go, Gandalf?"

He shook his head, his eyes veiled in mystery. "I will tell of my journeys at a later date, for now is not the time."

Then suddenly, he turned around, intently listening for something I could not hear. I sighed in slight frustration. However, since I had lived around him so long, I was used to his silences.

Gandalf smiled, and rose slowly. "I believe there are others who have a wish to see you, Amira."

I raised my eyebrows, but my Mentor just laughed, moving toward the door and slipping outside.

I sighed. Looking down upon myself for the first time, I noticed that my Ranger clothes had been replaced by a type of nightgown that was made of the same soft, delicate material as were the sheets. My hair and body felt clean, as though washed, and I wondered how much of a sight I looked when I first came to Rivendell. How wonderful to be clean at last, after days of toil in the same suit of clothes! I had just had this thought, when there was a quiet knock at the door.

"Come in..." I said quietly, and the door opened partially so that Lord Elrond and Lady Arwen could slip inside.

I am sure the shock was evident on my face to see them in my room, but I regained my composure quickly, bowing my head. "Greetings Lord Elrond, Lady Arwen."

"Greetings Amira, Ranger of the Dunedain, daughter of Drü and Amirana." Lord Elrond intoned formally, bowing his own head slightly in return, an action which shocked me. Gandalf must have told them of my lineage, although the bow was unnecessary since my bloodline was low.

"How do you feel?" Arwen asked after bowing her head as well. She came to sit gracefully at the foot of my bed.

I cleared my throat, "Refreshed and peaceful, thank-you."

Lord Elrond smiled, "There are others waiting to visit you, Amira. Do you wish to receive them?"

"Yes," I answered, running a hand through my hair. "Thank-you, my Lord."

The father and daughter exchanged a glance, and then Lady Arwen laughed a little, meeting my eyes.

"You are much more polite than even most Rangers, young one," she said, and I blushed slightly. "Nay, do not be ashamed! Your character will take you far, I think." I met her eyes again, and her green ones were bright and amused.

"We will leave you for now to meet with the others, Amira, and if there is anything you need, please do not hesitate to ask." Lord Elrond said as his daughter rose fluidly and stood next to him.

"I thank-you both for all you have done," I replied, bowing my head. They bowed theirs in return, puzzling me again. Backing out of the room, they departed, Lady Arwen leaving me with one last reassuring smile.

Moments later, I heard footsteps and then a knock on the door.

"Come in..." I called quietly, and Strider's – _Aragorn's_ – head popped through the door. I had been referring to him and thinking of him as Strider the Ranger for some time now, and now that his clothes had been changed, and he was wearing dark grey and deep brown Elven clothing, he appeared much less weary and more Kingly than before. He smiled at me as he strode into the room, sitting down upon the chair Gandalf had vacated.

"Amira, it is good to see you awake!" he said, leaning forward to touch my hand. "We were all concerned for you. A wound from a Morgul blade is fearsome, even in the skilled hands of the Elves."

I smiled, "I owe Lord Elrond my life."

He laughed lightly, "I believe a good many owe Lord Elrond their lives." And then the door opened to reveal Walker. She also looked much refreshed, standing in a deep blue Elven dress that accentuated a beauty I had not considered before.

"Amira..." she greeted me quietly, as she moved toward the bed and sat down on the edge of it, much like Lady Arwen had done earlier.

"Greetings, Walker," I bowed my head, wondering if I would know her hidden true name as well.

"You had us worried, young one," she said, her eyes meeting mine.

"Indeed." Aragorn put in.

"I feel stronger than ever before," I reassured them. Walker smiled, an expression which transformed her face and illuminated the beauty that I saw there.

"My heart sings to hear it," she responded. Her voice held great warmth and sincerity, as did her eyes.

Aragorn rose, meeting my eyes before he strode through the door. "I will leave you two alone, for I believe there is something Walker would wish to tell you, Amira." With this, he was gone, his footsteps fading away quickly.

Confused, I looked toward Walker, who was frowning slightly in the direction where Aragorn had disappeared.

"Is that true?" I asked finally, my voice quiet. She sighed, looking at me slowly.

"Now that I know your true name, Amira, I suppose it is only fair that you know mine," Walker began, and when she paused, I waited patiently.

"My name is Ehlon, daughter of Lord Ehlonear and Lady Milanwen of the Dunedain."

I realized I was gaping at the end of her sentence, and I shut my partially open mouth quickly. An amused smile touched her lips, but it was soon gone when I did not answer for a long moment.

"My Lady...thank-you," I said, meeting her eyes, "Thank-you for telling me this."

She shook her head slightly, "Please, do not call me Lady. These days, in these times, I feel far from what my true name allows many to call me." At the end of her sentence, she had looked down, smoothing her dress over her leg.

I nodded, grinning slightly. "Ehlon it is."

She looked up sharply, but when she caught my amusement, she chuckled. "You are a rare soul, Amira."

I cocked my head off to one side, "As are you, I believe."

Ehlon smiled faintly, and glanced at the window to the growing morning light, seemingly faraway. Finally, she returned her gaze to my face, her expression deeply curious.

"Forgive me if you do not wish to say, but...how old are you?"

Her question caught me off guard, and I stalled momentarily. Regaining my composure, I answered quickly:

"Twenty two."

I registered surprise in her eyes, which she had the formality to hide quickly. "So young," she muttered, looking away.

Boldly, I blurted out the first thought in my mind, although I shouldn't have. "And you, Ehlon? How old are you?"

Her amusement was clear when she looked up again, causing me to blush slightly. I lowered my gaze, twisting the sheet in my hands. "I am sorry," I began, "I didn't mean to be so direct."

She smiled kindly. "Not to worry, I am not insulted by such questions. I am eighty three."

I nodded, grateful for her willingness to answer, since my puzzle surrounding the woman Ranger was beginning to come together.

I opened my mouth to speak, but then shut it quickly, realizing I had better think about my question before I asked it. Ehlon saw this, and looked at me curiously. "What is it?" she asked, twisting her body more in my direction.

"If you will, Ehlon, what caused you to lead the life of a Ranger?" I asked cautiously, only meeting her eyes again when she did not answer for a long moment. Now that I saw her face, I realized she was merely thinking over her answer carefully.

Finally, she sighed. "A good many roads await some in this life, and some only can choose from a few," she said quietly, seeming weary, as though my question had weakened her in some way. "I chose to fight for my people in our stand against Sauron, be it foolish or otherwise, though I have spent far too much time alone in the wilderness sorting through the paths I could undertake." I also sensed vagueness in her answer, as though it weren't the entire truth, but I nodded, since I understood her words perfectly.

Then curiosity stumbled forward again. "And your family, Ehlon? Where are they?" I asked, and then I realized I had foolishly touched on a painful subject, for she winced slightly.

"They have joined the fate which waits for every Man," she whispered, looking up at me slowly, "…the Gift of Men waits longer for some, but sooner for others. It claimed my family long ago."

My words had gone dry at the emotion in her eyes, so I just nodded, swallowing back the lump in my throat. The Gift of Men was Death…

Finally, I said, "I am sorry."

"Do not be," she responded, smiling sadly, "I accepted my fate many years ago, though it took some time to adjust."

I wished to ask what had happened, but I knew I was treading too near personal territory for the status of our relationship. Perhaps later, when she knew me better, I would ask.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I changed the subject, touching on another curiosity. "And you have come to Rivendell in the past?" I asked, to which she nodded.

"Lord Elrond, Lady Arwen and her brothers are near family to me," Ehlon said, "I lived here for a short time, perhaps a few years, coming under the protective wings of Lord Elrond, Arwen, and her brothers. The Elves taught me as much of their language, history, customs, and weaponry as would be allowed, and I was a changed woman. No longer was I a dissociated, lost spirit wandering the wilds of this land, but one with a purpose in her life."

I let her words sink in for a moment. "How many years has it been since you have entered Rivendell?"

She sighed, "Time tends to run differently when travelling alone, but I believe it has been sixty years."

At this point in my young life, this number sounded exceedingly large. "That is a long time," I finally commented. Ehlon glanced at me in amusement, likely sensing my shock.

"Yes it is," she agreed, "I have forgotten how I have missed it."

I smiled. "I have never entered the realm of the Elves before, although I have met many travelling to the North,"

"You will enjoy Rivendell a great deal, I believe," she said, and then she laughed, "Although many that have come here have stayed, never to leave again."

Glancing at the door, she sighed. "I suppose I should leave you to rest now, but I am very glad to see you well."

"And I am honoured to know your true name, Ehlon," I said sincerely.

"As am I for yours," she returned. Leaning over and touching her lips to my forehead briefly, she pulled away. "Rest well, Amira." Then she was gone, leaving me in a slight daze.

* * *

By the time the afternoon sun shone brightly over Rivendell, Lady Arwen granted me permission to take leave of my bed rest, only after the bandages on my thigh and side were removed. When this was done, they revealed smooth, seemingly untouched skin. Before I left my room, the Lady insisted that I wear one of the dresses her ladies had fashioned for me. Putting it on, I gazed at myself in wonder as I took in my form reflected in the mirror: the dress was a deep, scarlet red that complimented my reddish brown hair and contrasted my blue eyes. It was as though the woman looking back at me was another person; I hardly recognized myself...

Led by Gandalf, I found myself unable to believe the beauty that could be found in such a place, where the rivers were perfectly crystalline and calm, the trees were powerful and protective, and the birdsong joined the voices of the Elves as they sang their afternoon songs. Gandalf spent an hour showing me around the palace of Rivendell, and my eyes could not seem to take in enough of the beauty to make a concrete memory. There were numerous areas to sit in peace, trails to walk among the serenity of the trees and brooks, libraries to read quietly, dining rooms to eat in health and prosperity, halls lavishly decorated with paintings and carvings to depict Elven history, alcoves to listen to the voices of singing Elves, and balconies to gaze at the canyon and the mountains.

When the hour was over, Gandalf took me to the far wing of the Healing Rooms, where Frodo laid peacefully, his four friends at his side. There was also a white haired Hobbit sitting near him that I did not recognize. I had an idea of who he was, although I did not have time to think on it before my presence was noticed by the Hobbits.

"Amira!" Frodo cried happily when he saw me, as did the others. I smiled at the Ringbearer.

"You will not believe how glad I am to see you well, Frodo," I said, sitting down on one of the chairs alongside Gandalf.

"So are we!" Sam piped up.

"We were worried about you too," Merry added.

Frodo gestured to the white haired Hobbit sitting beside his bed, "Amira, this is Bilbo Baggins, my Uncle. Bilbo, this is Amira, one of the Rangers who helped me to Rivendell."

"'Tis a pleasure and honour to meet you, My Lady!" he said in a slightly raspy voice, jumping up at the same time I rose. We bowed to each other, and Bilbo grinned. "Frodo and Gandalf have had nothing but good things to say about you."

"And I have heard nothing but the courage you displayed in your adventure those years ago," I replied, to which the old Hobbit shrugged his shoulders.

"Oh, it was so long ago! I do not have that courage at all now. I will pass it on to Frodo, who has more need of it than I!" he said cheerfully, sitting down upon his chair, resuming his tale once more.

The afternoon passed by quickly as I sat with the Hobbits. I was beginning to take quite a liking to Bilbo, seeing the resemblance in character to his adoptive nephew, Frodo. He responded to my questions of his adventure with great zeal, and he had a willing audience of the five young Hobbits and me. It was only when Gandalf stirred and rose slowly that Bilbo appeared slightly startled and aware of the passing time.

"Oh!" he cried, looking abashed. "I suppose I have been talking your lovely ears off, young Lady. I apologize."

I shook my head, "There is no need to apologize Mr. Baggins. I very much enjoy your tales."

He chuckled, waving his hand dismissively. "Ah, there's no need for Mr. Baggins with me, I'm just Bilbo!"

I laughed, amused, and Gandalf flicked his head to the side, about to initiate our departure. Rising, I looked upon the Hobbits, landing on Frodo.

"I will come by again soon, Frodo, but I am afraid we must go for now." Then I bowed toward Bilbo, who appeared tickled at the attention. "It was a pleasure, Bilbo."

"Indeed!" he clapped his hands together, chuckling merrily. "Indeed it was a pleasure to meet with you! Do come again soon..."

With that, Gandalf tugged me out of the room, where he smiled in amusement once we were in the hall.

"Ah, Bilbo..." my Mentor laughed softly, and I smiled.

"I am glad to have met him," I said sincerely.

"I know." Gandalf returned, gripping my arm lightly and steering me toward a set of stairs leading out of the palace.

"Where are we going?" I asked curiously, but he did not answer and only lengthened his stride, forcing me to walk more quickly to keep up with him. For an old man, he certainly could move speedily, a fact which never ceased to amaze me.

Gradually, as we moved slightly away from the palace and onto one of the many trails snaking throughout the surrounding forest, I supposed he was taking me to a quiet place to sit and rest.

Halting underneath an arbour, Gandalf spoke in a whisper into my ear. "Here, there is someone who would likely be glad to see you up and refreshed."

I gazed at him, confused, and he just grinned and left me there. Sighing, I brushed past the tender vines that clung to the arbour and entered a circular stone sitting area. I blinked; none other than Ehlon sat there alone.

Her eyes flashed toward me immediately, and she smiled, rising. She wore a midnight blue dress with ivory embroidery along the hems and bodice, and on her feet there were sandals. She looked far from the Ranger I knew her to be…

"Amira, you look beautiful. Come, let me see you."

I stepped further toward her lightly, until I came to a rest a few feet away, bowing my head. "It has been long since I walked in a dress," I admitted, and she grinned.

"So has it been for me," she murmured, sitting down and patting the place next to her with her hand. "Sit with me for a moment."

I did so, resting against the stone back wall, sighing slightly.

"How do you feel?" Ehlon asked quietly.

"Wonderful," I said, unable to keep the smile from my face. "Nothing in my wildest imagination could have prepared me for the beauty of this place."

She smiled, "The awe never leaves me either."

And then I heard footsteps coming in our direction. Ehlon tensed slightly, and I frowned, turning to look at the newcomer, or rather, newcomers.

Lady Arwen was leading a man I did not recognize into the circle, stopping when she saw the two of us.

"Ah, there you are! Ehlon, Amira, this Lord Boromir, son of the Steward of Gondor," she introduced, and I caught the twinkling of mischief in the Lady's eyes when she looked at Ehlon, whose expression had turned hard. I wondered briefly if there was something I was missing, but then Lord Boromir stepped forward toward us, his blonde-red hair shining under the sun.

"I did know such beautiful women of the non-Elven kind were staying in Rivendell, my Lady. If I had known this, I might have visited here sooner than today." He smiled, taking Ehlon's hand to kiss it. An unreadable emotion passed across her face before it disappeared, and she smiled faintly at him, the radiance of this smile not even close to what it had been earlier.

"Thank-you," she said, bowing her head slightly in respect.

"Ah, and you as well," Lord Boromir said to me, although he did not take my hand to kiss, a fact I'll admit I was glad of. Instead, he bowed his head, and I did the same. He was a very large man, and I supposed his face would be considered handsome, but his attitude was too presumptuous for my liking. Also, it was clear he had taken an immediate liking to Ehlon, a feeling I was already certain was not returned, judging by her stiff posture.

"Ehlon? Perhaps you would continue the tour from this point onward? I'm afraid I have a pressing matter to attend to with my father," Lady Arwen asked, giving my companion that same mischievous smile.

She narrowed her eyes at the Elven Lady and countered, her expression turning to confusion: "I was on my way to check on the health of the Ringbearer…?"

"I can assure you, my friend, that the Ringbearer is in perfect health, attended now by his dear friends. You need not concern yourself," Lady Arwen continued, ignoring her comment and winking in my direction, an action which shocked me to no end. Clearly the Evenstar had a hidden, mischievous side to her noble, lovely character. Ehlon rose quickly, and Lord Boromir smiled as though he had won a competition.

"_Lle lakwenien?_ _Im innas ped a' le telwan. __Antolle ulua sulrim_," 'Are you joking? Whatever it is you are planning, Undómiel, I do not like it one bit. Wind pours from your mouth,' she spoke darkly to her in Elvish.

"_Mellon nin, ienna' telkawer im _," 'My friend, you know I have only your interests at heart,' Lady Arwen smiled back royally. My companion frowned at her, and turned on her heel toward Lord Boromir, beckoning him to fellow with a surprisingly polite expression replacing her previous angry one.

I had been biting my lip the entire conversation, but now, with the two gone, I couldn't help but laugh. Lady Arwen looked at me, mirth dancing in her green eyes.

"That woman has been travelling alone for too long," she said with a sigh. I wheezed for breath.

"My Lady, I am afraid she might be angry at you," I pointed out, having composed myself momentarily.

"Call me Arwen, young one..." she insisted, and then she added with another mischievous smile. "Ah, when she lived with us for that time, she was always angry with me."

I laughed again, wiping a tear from my eye. "I can imagine."

Arwen smiled, and we both laughed. In that moment, I realized I was the most carefree I had been in a long time...

* * *

In the dining hall that night, I saw Ehlon again. She was sitting far away from Lord Boromir, who glanced periodically in her direction. Noting the empty seat next to her, I sat down, startling her slightly.

She sighed in relief, "It's you."

"Glad I wasn't Lord Boromir?" I whispered, and she narrowed her eyes at me.

"Have you been talking to Arwen?" she accused, taking a sip from her wine glass.

I shrugged, "I hope you didn't punch him."

"Amira!" Ehlon cried, aghast, and then she laughed. "Whose side are you on?"

"Yours, of course," I answered, "but I do think I deserve to know what happened."

She shook her head, almost wearily. "Start eating first, then I'll tell you."

As I ate, she slowly relayed her conversation with Lord Boromir, which seemed to be as taxing in the recounting of it as it must have been in reality. He had asked her pointedly about her role in bringing the Ringbearer to Rivendell, and then questioned why and how women of the Dunedain were permitted to wield swords alongside men.

She gave a frustrated groan. "Gondorian men are as stubborn as oxen when it comes to cases such as these."

I bit back my grin and failed, watching as she formed her next words.

"I told him that wielding a sword gave me a purpose when I had no other, that wandering the wilds without direction was not something to continue for the rest of my days. I am not proud of my previous, wandering self, but I would rather be an able hand with the sword than a defenceless beggar. I needed to have undergone such wanderings to come to this conclusion. I told him this,"

I nodded, impressed. "Well said."

She shook her head. "It was like talking to a wall. No..." she shook her head again, chuckling, "walls comprehend better than he, I believe."

I couldn't hold back my laugh, and I had to quickly compose myself before drawing too much attention.

"I see..." I said finally, and then I smiled. "Poor Ehlon."

She smirked a little, and then shook her head, smiling up at the Elf who served us our dinner.

* * *

The following days before the Council, three in all, where spent retraining my body in order to regain the fitness I had had before my wounds. Aragorn made it his duty to help me, although I did not ask him to, and we would spend hours sparring and duelling together in the Elves' fighting circle. On and on we would go, often watched by either Ehlon, Gandalf, or passing Elves. Only when the sweat dripped from my forehead and I felt as though I could not move another muscle would Aragorn let me stop for the day. It was as though I were being trained as a Ranger all over again, for he tested me in many skill areas: dagger throwing, archery, sword, and hand-to-hand combat. If there was one to admit weaknesses, it would be me. At first I frowned at the hand-to-hand combat idea, which I think amused my trainer greatly. Once I let go of my caution and fear of hurting Aragorn, it all went very well, and I soon began to master the techniques he showed me. He was a very patient, gentle teacher, and my admiration toward the heir of Isildur grew over the proceeding days. I began to see the leader, the King that he could be, and the possibilities this held flickered in his eyes like a flame...

There was a tall, blonde-haired Elf who watched us train from the shadows of a large tree, and on the second day, he stepped forward into the circle when Aragorn allowed me a small break.

"You fight very well, my Lady," he complimented, and I smiled in return. "Greetings, Aragorn."

"Legolas!" Aragorn cried, smiling brightly at the handsome Elf. "So you are here, my friend. I did not know."

The Elf, dressed in standard Wood Elves clothing of light green, grinned at him. "Yes, I was called by Lord Elrond to the Council. It is good to be in Rivendell yet again."

Aragorn chuckled, and then drew me forward. "Legolas, this is Amira, Ranger of the Dunedain. Amira, this is Legolas, the Prince of Mirkwood."

"It is an honour, my Lord," I said, bowing deeply to him as he did to me.

"'Tis an honour and pleasure to meet thee as well, my Lady," he returned smoothly, his soft green eyes kind.

I bit my lip slightly, wondering why so many had assumed my bloodline as something it wasn't in reality. "Please, my Lord, I am not of high rank enough for 'my Lady'. Call me Amira."

"Ah," he said with a chuckle, glancing at Aragorn. "Another who does not have a palate for formalities!" Then he smiled kindly at me, "Do call me Legolas, for I feel the same."

Aragorn laughed, leaning on his sword. "All of us travelling folk seem to be similar, in that regard."

Legolas turned to me, the sunlight catching his hair, making a golden aura around his head. "I noted you have not yet touched on archery today. Would you honour me with the chance to practise with you?"

My eyes widened, for it was more the other way around. "Yes, I would enjoy that." At my words, Aragorn grinned slightly, moving away from the circle slowly.

"It looks as though I am no longer needed," he said, sitting down on the stone bench next to Ehlon to watch.

It was certainly much more of an honour for me to have the Prince of Mirkwood practise archery, one of my favourite areas of weaponry, with me. With his Elven sight and reflexes, he hit the target precisely in the middle every time without fail, unlike me, who sunk my arrows into the white outer circle around the target all too often for my liking. All the same, he congratulated me on my effort, showing me a new technique with my elbow that wouldn't make my shoulder sore after prolonged use.

Throughout the late morning he asked me about my life and I asked about his. He had been raised in Mirkwood, and had travelled to a great many places throughout Middle Earth. He spoke of the goblins and the War of the North with sadness, as they had lost many of their people there on those battle grounds. I nodded solemnly, for I had seen the same myself. He knew of Bilbo Baggin's journey with the Dwarves and the dragon, Smaug, and he told me that there was animosity between Dwarves and Elves particularly after the episode when Balin had been captured by Legolas's father, King Thrandruil of Mirkwood.

More recently, he told me of Gollum, the reason why Legolas had made his journey to Rivendell. In TA 3017, Gollum was released by Mordor and then captured by Aragorn, who took him to King Thrandruil for safe keeping. Then on June 20th of TA 3018, his father's kingdom was attacked and Gollum escaped. Nobody had seen him since, and this was causing much concern.

By the time noon turned into afternoon, I had nearly matched Legolas's precision and accuracy, and he seemed satisfied. We both bowed to each other, and I thanked him for the honour. He returned my sentiment with an inclination of his head and a smile before he disappeared into the trees.

* * *

**I hope you have enjoyed Rivendell thus far. :) I thought I would include some background information that the movie didn't really cover, so that you might understand Gollum's role in people's growing unease with the situation in Middle Earth. The next chapter is on the Council of Elrond, which I will upload if I think I am getting a sufficient amount of readers/reviewers. A quick note re: Boromir - I have NOT made him the villain in my story at all, like I have seen other writers do, but he will, inevitably, fall under the influence of the Ring to some extent. That is all I will say for now...**

**Please review, as it would make me ridiculously happy!**

**Also, XxKicking Your AxX, I agree that Rohan and Minas Tirith would both be awesome places to visit. In fact, with the exception of Mordor, I would love to travel around the entire Middle Earth, if only it existed. Alas, only in my mind!**


	6. The Council of Elrond

**Chapter Six – The Council of Elrond**

The day of the Council itself was overcast, spreading a surprisingly beautiful pale light over the valley and canyon below. Anxious, I spent part of the morning in the gardens alone, thinking over the possible outcomes of the Council. Would I join a party that would take the Ring to Mordor, or would I be left behind to stay in this beautiful palace, only to return to the North? In the end, I ceased my worry and enjoyed the solitude of the brook I was sitting by, listening to the rushing water and periodically dipping my finger into it.

After the noon luncheon, I walked with Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin around the palace for a while. They were full of good cheer and tales, and I began to feel quite affectionate toward the four Hobbits, since they were all very kind and wise. I left them to their amusement near the fighting circle and walked through the Eastern Hall, where the most concentrated collection of paintings, statues, prints, and war artifacts were. Slowly I scanned the various paintings, many of which were from the Second Age and depicted battles I did not even know of. Great broadswords, slender blades, daggers, and chipped arrows were presented in neat glass boxes, with companion paintings above them. Hearing voices, I ascended a set of stairs onto another level of the Hall, curious to see who it was. Before I had turned the corner, Lord Elrond passed by me with a wide smile, and I bowed my head in greeting. Ahead of me, I could see Aragorn sitting on a stone bench, quietly reading a worn leather-bound book. Further down the hall, I observed a figure walking calmly toward me, and I recognized them as Ehlon as they drew closer.

Approaching quietly, I greeted my trainer as his eyes snapped up to meet mine. "Greetings, Aragorn. I apologize for ruining your peace."

He merely smiled, setting down his book. "Nay, do not apologize." Then he gestured to the artifacts to his right, "And what do you think of the Eastern Hall?"

I smiled, "It's fascinating." And it truly was. One could lose entire afternoons or days to places like these.

Hearing her footsteps, I turned to Ehlon. "Greetings, my friend."

"Amira," she greeted me with warmth. She leaned against the column next to Aragorn, her ivory dress shimmering around her. "It is good to see you so strong again!"

I nodded, inhaling, "It must be the air." Aragorn chuckled.

"It is difficult to be unhealthy here, indeed," he agreed, and then I heard another pair of footsteps on the level below us, about to ascend the stairs. Ehlon tensed.

"I have a feeling I know who that is," she murmured quietly, and Aragorn frowned at her, clearly confused.

I bit my lip, sensing the same as she. I attempted to hide a grin. "Hide, Ehlon, while you can."

She sighed, walking quickly in the other direction and concealing herself behind one of the columns.

Aragorn shot me a bewildered glance, and I just shrugged my shoulders, for the man in question was too near to speak of now.

Lord Boromir appeared before us by the stairs, and he smiled when he saw me, inclining his head slightly. In all fairness, the man was kind and loyal, but his attention toward Ehlon was a bit strange, especially when it was clear she did not return his feelings.

"My Lady," was his polite, warm greeting as he walked up to a painting displayed on the nearby wall. It depicted Isildur cutting the Ring from Sauron's hand, the broken sword, Narsil, held high.

"And how are you, Lord Boromir?" I asked respectfully, and he smiled as he gazed at the painting.

"As good as a man from Gondor can be so far from home," was his answer, and I had a feeling he did not feel altogether comfortable among the Elves. I found this sad, since I could not imagine a person not feeling completely at ease in such a wonderful place.

He then turned to face Aragorn, giving him a quizzical look. "You are no Elf,"

"Men of the South are welcome here," Aragorn stated, referring to his Númenor blood.

"Who are you?"

"I'm a friend of Gandalf the Grey," Aragorn answered simply, causing me to bite back a smile. So it seemed the heir of Isildur was as cryptic and vague as Gandalf!

"Then we are here on a common purpose," Lord Boromir started, and then paused for a moment. "… Friend,"

Aragorn gazed at him for a long moment before Lord Boromir looked away quickly, turning to eye the painting again.

"Narsil…" Lord Boromir murmured casually, "the blade that cut the Ring from Sauron's hand,"

Then he slowly turned to look at Aragorn, who was still gazing at him. "But no more than a lost heirloom," he said, turning on his heel and walking away.

A sudden intensity seemed to be present in the Hall which was not there before, as Aragorn gazed at the painting of Narsil for a long moment. Sighing again, he looked away, fingering the scabbard on his belt which held the shards of the great sword. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the figure of Ehlon emerge from her hiding place behind the column and walk up to us.

"Why do you fear the past, Aragorn? You are Isildur's heir, not Isildur himself. You are not bound to his fate," she whispered to him, echoing the thoughts in my mind.

"The same blood flows in my veins…" he whispered back, and then he turned to look at Ehlon. "The same weakness."

When there was a slight pause, I spoke quietly: "Your time will come, Aragorn. You will face the same evil, and you will defeat it," Aragorn faced me now, seemingly surprised that I had spoken, as though he had forgotten I was there.

"_Manen uma le sinta sen, Amira? A' Sindava nae si dan_," 'How do you know this, Amira? The Shadow has already fallen,' he whispered to me in Elvish.

"_Le naa thalion ar' ona beika estel. Le naa nai Aragorn, manka le innas merna ta ar' ba_," 'You are strong and give many hope. You are a leader, Aragorn, whether you will believe it or not,' I whispered back, touching his shoulder briefly.

Ehlon, having moved next to me, smiled from the corner of my eye. "_A si i-duath u-orthor, Aragorn… u or le, a u or nin,_" 'The shadow does not hold power yet… not over you, and not over me,'

He sighed and turned to look behind me at the picture of Isildur and Sauron. "I cannot be what they want of me. I cannot be King, I do not want it. I never have," he went on, in the Common Language this time.

"Power is not a thing to be taken lightly, and those who take it on are often not those to flourish under its weight, but you, Aragorn, you were born in the lineage of great Kings. Such blood does not make you a weakling under the growing Shadow of Mordor. It makes you stronger," Ehlon said quietly, and I nodded, taken aback by the way she spoke.

He looked down at her and smiled, "Thank-you Ehlon..." Then he turned to me, "And you as well, Amira. You have both been..." he sighed, shaking his head, "too kind to me, but I thank-you."

I frowned, "It is not a matter of kindness, Aragorn, it is a matter of stating what is seen as the truth."

His head snapped up, his wise brown eyes meeting mine. He smiled slowly, absorbing my words. "You are indeed beyond your years, I think, young Ranger."

With this, he stood and bowed toward both of us, book in hand. "I must meet with Lord Elrond now, but I will see you both before the Council, or if not, farewell until then!"

I turned to Ehlon as his footsteps faded away. "I hope the day will be soon that he sees in himself what we see from afar,"

She nodded, sighing as she gazed down at the shards of Narsil, seemingly deep in thought. "As do I."

I did not know at that moment that Aragorn had been on the brink of inner decision, and our words had only been a reminder of his coming importance. We would see his new-found air of leadership far sooner than we expected...

* * *

The Meeting Hall, a circular arrangement of ornate columns, was mostly filled by the time I arrived that late afternoon. Kings, Princes, Queens, Officials, and Wardens of the Dwarves, Elves, and Men sat or stood around the circle, where at the head, Lord Elrond sat in the seat of Honour. Legolas, standing among the Elves, caught my eye and bowed his head, which I returned before moving toward the opposite side of the circle. Ehlon, standing next to Frodo and Bilbo, raised her hand. I stepped toward them.

"Greetings," I said quietly, and they all smiled. "I was kept a little late by three others who would have liked to sneak into the Council," I added wryly, and Ehlon chuckled as Frodo's smile widened in amusement.

The hubbub ended when Lord Elrond stood up from his chair, and the rest of the arrivals stood in the remaining space behind those who were already seated. He cleared his throat, and silence reigned over the Meeting Hall.

"Strangers from distant lands, friends of old. You have been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor," Lord Elrond began, "Middle-earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it. You will unite or you will fall. Each race is bound to this fate… this one doom," he paused and motioned to Frodo, who had moved next to Gandalf. "Bring forth the ring, Frodo,"

Frodo stepped forward cautiously, his eyes flicking around the Council until his eyes found mine and he seemed to relax slightly. He reached into his pocket and laid the Ring upon the pedestal in the centre of the circle.

As soon as Frodo's hand left the Ring, I felt that familiar darkness sweep over me and press against my mind, and heart. I could hear whispers of impossible promises on the outskirts of my mind, and when I glanced up at the others, I knew many of them were reacting similarly, or even stronger, to me. The Elves, Dwarves, and Men talked quietly amongst each other for a moment before going silent again, their eyes upon the Ring. Their expressions had turned grim, and many were solemn, as though suddenly aged by the presence of such evil in the Hall.

Gandalf began to speak. "I went to Isengard before arriving in Rivendell," he said slowly, catching my eye, "where the wizard Saruman, the chief of all wizards in Middle-earth, dwells, to seek help and counsel. However, Saruman has since turned against us, desiring the Ring for himself. Saruman imprisoned me in his tower, Orthanc, rightly suspecting that I knew where the Ring was located. I did not yield and managed to escape from Orthanc with the aid of an Eagle. I know that Saruman is not yet in Sauron's service, and is mustering his own force of Orcs."

Murmurs erupted throughout the Hall, and the Ring's whispers continued. My eyes widened as Gandalf's tale sunk in: he had been captured by the traitorous Maia and escaped! My mind turned quickly, as I wondered what this meant for the rest of Middle Earth.

Lord Boromir stepped forward suddenly, and there was a strange expression on his face. "In a dream," he began, addressing everyone. "I saw the Eastern sky grow dark… but in the West a pale light lingered… a voice was crying, 'Your doom is near at hand,'" he said as he began to walk to toward the golden annulus on the pedestal, as if drawn to it. I tensed slightly, hoping he would not have the urge to take the Ring. "'Isildur's bane is found,'" he continued, his voice taking on a different tone now, one darker than I had ever heard. I could see Lord Elrond glance concernedly at Gandalf, and when I turned to Ehlon, I could see she felt the same way.

Lord Boromir stretched out his hand to the Ring slowly, as though in a trance. "Isildur's Bane,"

Elrond jumped to his feet. "Boromir!"

Lord Boromir straightened suddenly, seemingly bewildered that his own hand was reaching toward the pedestal. His eyes wide, he backed away, as though he were a frightened child that knew not of what he'd done.

Gandalf's voice came from next to Lord Elrond, quietly at first, and then growing in intensity.

"_Ash nazg durbatulûk!_" Gandalf began to speak in the Black Speech, causing Lord Boromir to jump back further. "_Ash nazg gimbatul_," The sky grew dark and my head began to pulse to an unknown rhythm as Gandalf stood and continued, forcing Lord Boromir into his seat. "_Ash nazg thrakatulûk, agh burzum-ishi krimpatul_, "'One Ring to rule them all. One Ring to find them. One Ring to bring them all and in the Darkness bind them',"

As Gandalf stopped, the sky cleared and the sun shone once more.

"Never before has anyone uttered words of that tongue here in Imladris!" Lord Elrond cried at Gandalf angrily. My Mentor merely smiled with a touch of deep sadness.

"I do not ask your pardon Master Elrond, for the Black Speech of Mordor may yet be heard in every corner of the West," Then Gandalf turned to address us all. "The Ring is altogether evil."

There was some silence as the shock of the moment passed.

"But it is a gift," Lord Boromir began again, and I saw that Ehlon had been correct in saying Gondorian men were as stubborn as oxen. "A gift from the foes of Mordor! Why not use this Ring? Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, held the forces of Mordor at bay, by the blood of our people are your lands kept safe. Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy… let us use it against him!" he said excitedly, trying to convince us all.

Anger surged through me, but it was Ehlon who stepped forward, her entire body taut.

"You are a fool if you think you can control the One Ring," she interrupted, her voice low and dark. "Did you not see what it was doing to you just now? It will exploit your people one by one until it returns to its true Master. History has proven this,"

Lord Boromir's head snapped toward her and in his eyes was a terrifying anger, one which was truly frightening.

Aragorn spoke up as well from nearby. "You cannot wield it; none of us can. The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master."

"And what would a lady and a Ranger know of this matter?" Lord Boromir seethed, his voice still unnatural and strange. Clearly the man had forgotten Ehlon's title in his anger! I stepped forward, clutching her shoulder tightly in case she decided to lash out at the man in front of us.

Ehlon glared at him. "Clearly more than you do," she hissed in a whisper. The side of Aragorn's mouth twitched, as did mine. Those closest to us snickered. Lord Boromir's expression darkened further, as the muscles in his face twisted and churned in anger. And then he stepped backward, his face clearing as shock and horror replaced his previous mix of expressions.

He continued to recoil, staring at Ehlon and I in a kind of grief. A wave of recognition washed over me then.

"Lord Boromir," I began quietly, "perhaps you have just experienced the true power of the One Ring, which seems to have replaced your tongue with its own."

He stepped back further in horror, and another voice joined in.

"And that is no mere lady: she is Lady Ehlon, also known as The Walker," Legolas said, standing and drawing Lord Boromir's gaze. At the sound of Ehlon's other name, the Council began to whisper and stare. "And this is also no mere Ranger: he is Aragorn, son of Arathorn." Legolas continued, casting Lord Boromir a dark glance. "You owe him your allegiance,"

Lord Boromir turned to Aragorn in quiet disbelief, "Aragorn? This is Isildur's heir?"

"And heir to the throne of Gondor," Ehlon bit out, causing Lord Boromir to turn to her yet again.

Aragorn's eyes met Ehlon's before turning to Legolas, who was frowning deeply at Lord Boromir. "Havo dad, Legolas," 'Sit down, Legolas' Begrudgingly, the tall Elf obeyed, sinking down onto his chair with a sigh.

Then he stepped forward, his brown eyes burning with a new light as he did. He reached for his sword belt, untying the scabbard and tossing it on the nearby table.

"And this is Narsil," Aragorn said, "the broken sword of Isildur."

Murmurs swept through the hall as everyone's eyes took in the object on the table. The Ranger retrieved the hilt, showing the broken edge that had cut off Sauron's finger those years ago. He then slid the second piece of sword that had shattered out of the sheath, and weighed both hilt and blade in his hands.

Lord Boromir backed toward his chair, and as he sat down, his face had taken on a look quiet contemplation while he stared at the sword.

An uncomfortable silence fell over the council, but was broken by Gandalf as he brought our minds back to the present matter. "But Aragorn and Ehlon are right: we cannot use the Ring," then he met my eyes, his own sky blue ones twinkling slightly, "And as Lord Boromir showed us and our friend Amira wisely spoke of, the Ring will try and weaken through one's own secret desires, ruining the heart and mind of that one."

"Then we have but one choice," Lord Elrond said, capturing the Council's attention again. "The ring must be destroyed..."

"Then what are we waiting for?" one of the Dwarves roared, as he jumped from his seat and brought his axe down upon the pedestal and the ring. Light flashed as his axe shattered and he was thrown back violently, landing bewildered upon the ground. I believe we were all too stunned to laugh at the atrocious event that had just transpired.

"The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli son of Glóin, by any craft that we here possess," Lord Elrond announced as the Dwarf got to his feet, quieting the uncomfortable whispers of both the Council and the Ring. "The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom… only there can it be unmade. It must be taken deep into Mordor, and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came. One of you must do this,"

Another uncomfortable silence followed as we all waited for someone to speak, someone to take on an impossible mission. None spoke. The silence was broken by the quiet voice of Lord Boromir as he echoed our fears, making the quiet even more unbearable.

"One does not simply walk into Mordor," he said slowly, his voice having returned to normal. "Its black gates are guarded by more than just Orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep and the Great Eye is ever watchful. It is a barren wasteland, riddled with fire and ash and dust… The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with ten thousand men could you do this. It is folly!"

Legolas jumped up. "Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond has said? The Ring must be destroyed-"

"And I suppose you think you're the one to do it?" yelled the Dwarf, Gimli, interrupting.

"And if we fail, what then? What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?" Lord Boromir asked no one in particular. Another small silence settled over the Council, as most of the eyes that had been on Lord Boromir turned to the ground as he glanced at each person in the circle.

"I will be dead before I see the Ring in the hands of an Elf!" Gimli muttered.

At that, everyone stood and began to yell and argue with each other, Elves fighting with Dwarves, and Men with Elves. Even Gandalf stood, shouting at the Gondorian. "Do you not understand? While we bicker among ourselves, Sauron's power grows! No one will escape it. You will all be destroyed, your homes burnt and your families put to the sword!"

It was only Frodo, Lord Elrond, his adviser, Aragorn, Ehlon and I that stayed seated. I did not see the point of the arguing, since nothing would ever be solved until the members of the Council agreed to overlook the petty insults they were throwing at each other and see the entire picture. I was beginning to feel my head ache painfully, when suddenly time slowed to a stop.

"I will take it!" I heard a small voice yell. "I will take it!"

I looked to see Frodo standing, trying to yell over the crowd. It was a show of great courage and strength for him to take on the Ring yet again, when he could just go home to the Shire, I thought. I would remember this moment for the rest of my days. Everyone grew silent and turned to stare at him, and he became uneasy, his eyes flicking around.

"I will take the Ring to Mordor… though I do not know the way," he said quietly.

"I will help you bear this burden, Frodo son of Drogo, as long as it is yours to bear," Gandalf offered, going to stand behind him and putting a hand on his shoulder.

Gandalf nodded to Ehlon, who quickly stood and went to stand before Frodo, smiling down at him. "I have seen great courage and strength from you, Frodo Baggins, and I believe that every person has a chance in this lifetime to undergo great change, and from it, rise from the ashes and alter the course of history. You are such Hobbit, I believe. You have my word and my sword," she said bowing to him.

My Mentor gazed at Aragorn, nodding. He also stepped forward and knelt before Frodo, speaking firmly. "If, by my life or death, I can protect you, I will as well. You have my sword,"

"And you have my bow," Prince Legolas said, stepping forward upon Gandalf's beckoning.

"And my axe," the Dwarf said gruffly, coming to join the group directly after.

When Lord Boromir stepped forward, I felt uneasy, wondering why this man was chosen out of the representatives of Gondor for the task when he had a weakness for the Ring. My concerns faded slightly when he spoke quietly to Frodo. "You carry the fate of us all, little one… If this is indeed the will of the Council, then Gondor will see it done."

I held my breath as Gandalf swept his gaze over the Council, as though looking for another representative. When his eyes landed on me, he smiled mischievously, and I gaped slightly. My Mentor nodded, and I glanced at Lord Elrond, who smiled kindly at my confusion and shock. Swallowing back the lump in my throat, I stepped forward lightly, bowing deeply to Frodo.

"It will be an honour to serve, protect, and guide you, Frodo Baggins, for as long as I draw breath! If this journey ends in my death," I paused, realizing the entire Council was watching me and listening intently, "then my death will have been for the life of you, the Ringbearer, and the lives of those in Middle Earth."

The Hobbit's eyes widened at the end of my speech, and when I rose fully, his eyes were filled with tears. Standing next to Ehlon, I could see her smile at the corner of my eye. Her hand brushed mine, and she squeezed my fingers reassuringly before retracting her hand.

Suddenly, the short silence was broken by stumbling footsteps.

"Here!" I turned to see Sam run towards us from behind a bush, rushing over to a stop in front of Frodo. "Mr. Frodo's not going anywhere without me!" There were murmurs throughout the Council, and a few chuckles.

"No, indeed it is hardly possible to separate you even when he is summoned to a secret Council and you are not," Lord Elrond said, trying to hide a smile. Sam blushed slightly, uneasy under all of the eyes upon him.

"We're coming too!" Came another shout, and suddenly Merry and Pippin were running up to join our growing company.

"You'll have to send us home tied up in a sack to stop us," Merry said shortly as he crossed his arms over his chest. He met my eyes, and I smiled reassuringly, making him relax his defensive stance.

"Eleven companions…" Lord Elrond murmured thoughtfully as he rose and looked at our strange group. "So be it...You shall be 'the Fellowship of the Ring'," he announced.

The entire Council rose, and to my shock, bowed..._to us!_

We bowed in return, and there were a few folk who began to cheer, which spurred the rest of the Council to do the same. Smiles replaced the grim expressions as Elves began to sing, but I still could not get the thought out of my mind, the thought that this was only the beginning...

* * *

**I realize this is a short chapter, but this is indeed only the beginning, and there are others coming up that will most definitely make up for it. :) Thanks for staying with me and reading along. Comments and reviews are appreciated, as always...**

**Also, a big thanks to BlackRose232 for inspiring me to post another chapter!**


	7. Leaving Rivendell & A New Beginning

**Chapter Seven – Leaving Rivendell, and a New Beginning**

After the Council, my head was spinning with visions of the journey ahead and my heart was fluttering with mixed emotions. At first opportunity, I ducked out of the festivities in the Great Hall and sought refuge in the gardens, allowing myself to work through my thoughts alone. Now that darkness had begun to descend, and the dim light of dusk had fallen, the forest appeared more mysterious than usual as a gentle wind whispered in the boughs above me. Leaning my back against the trunk of a large oak, I sighed, wondering why I was having such mixed feelings when it felt so right in my heart to be part of the Fellowship. Looking around myself at the beauty of Rivendell and listening to the enchanting voices of the Elves, I realized it was the promise of comfort, warmth, beauty and happiness in such a place that made me feel the way I did. I chuckled quietly to myself: I suppose I had been a Ranger too long, living in rough, harsh and unforgiving lands without reprieve. Glancing up at the moon that shone through the treetops, I could see how one would arrive in Rivendell and never be able to leave again. There were no worries, trouble, evil, pain, or sorrow here, it seemed.

With another sigh, I rose, feeling like walking instead. I passed through the circle where Ehlon and I had first met Lord Boromir. Seated inside were several Elven maidens speaking quickly, who bowed their heads slightly in my direction. Bowing my head also, I bid them a good evening and continued on, the stones on the pathway pleasantly cool beneath my bare feet. The path was a full loop encircling the palace, and I walked it slowly, drinking in the scenes around me so that I would never forget. If fate would have my death before I returned to Rivendell again, I would want to remember this in my dying thoughts...

My wanderings turned back to the Fellowship once again. I trusted both Aragorn and Ehlon greatly, and I had come to like Prince Legolas very well. It was only Lord Boromir that I was anxious about, considering his visible weakness for the Ring. The Dwarf, too, I was unsure of. Gimli seemed like a brave heart, but his malice against the Elven prince had made me leery of him also.

Then suddenly, I was drawn out of my thoughts.

A short, dim figure appeared around the corner, and at first I supposed it was one of the Hobbits, but it was too wide and round. As they drew closer, I saw that it was a Dwarf. In fact, it was Gimli! He did not see me yet, although I had stopped, and he appeared to be lost in thought, muttering to himself. Halting suddenly in the middle of the path and bending down, he seemed to be looking at the stones that constructed the path.

"These Elves, they don't know how to make real stone paths...Bah, I could show 'em but they'd never listen, no, no!" he grumbled, and I bit my lip to keep back my laughter.

"Greetings Master Gimli," I said, and he straightened so quickly his beard flipped upward.

"Oh!" he cried, furrowing his brow as he made out my form in the dim lighting. Recognition passed over his weathered face, and he crossed his arms over his chest. "Well," he said, "you must be that lass, Amira."

"That is correct," I responded, amused. "It seems we are a Fellowship now."

He snorted, throwing his arms in the air. "I'm bored silly with all this Fellowship talk. Show me an Orc any day and I'll lop off its head no matter what the cause!"

Stepping forward slightly, I smiled at the Dwarf. "I agree, Master Gimli, though the talk must come before we can take a jab at any Orcs."

Gimli threw his head back and laughed heartily, surprising me slightly. "Ah, well, now here's a refreshing lass who agrees with me!" Then he looked up at my face, his dark eyes twinkling. "I think you'll be good to have in the Fellowship."

I smiled, unsure of whether or not he was speaking out of wit. "And so will you. I have heard your skills with an axe, Master Gimli, and I'm certain I wouldn't wish to be your foe."

The Dwarf puffed his chest out slightly, and I could see my words had pleased him greatly. "Well! I have heard from the Lady Ehlon that you don't lack skills either...Come now! Should you like to come with me and rejoin the merrymaking in the Great Hall?"

I hesitated slightly, and then I smiled down at the Dwarf. "I would like that, thank-you."

With that, he led me purposefully back to the Great Hall, where the festivities had not ceased since my departure. Holding my sleeve, he half-dragged me to a small table filled with Dwarves, who appeared to be enjoying the Elven ale quite a bit.

"Lads!" Gimli called to his friends, and they looked up from their bowls and mugs, eyeing me with interest. "This lovely Lady from the North will be accompanying me in the Fellowship!"

They roared and hollered, pounding the table with their fists as Gimli led them into a half-cheer, half-salutation which called for more ale to be tipped back. Sitting at the head of the table next to Gimli, I listened to the Dwarves' tales, which seemed to match the Hobbits' in both the enthusiasm with which they were told and their length. They asked many questions, and seemed genuinely curious about my own travels and participation in the War of the North. They all shuddered when I recounted the sight of the thousands of Goblins gathered on the hill, and turned to me with greater respect in their eyes after that short tale. Gimli offered me a mug of ale at one point, but I politely declined, for I had never enjoyed ale all that much. The Dwarves, however, were not insulted by this, since there would be more left over for them to drink.

After a few hours, I took my leave, allowing the Dwarves' tales to venture into topics unfitting for a Lady's presence, although of course I had heard these all before. I smiled as I moved through the Hall. The Dwarves had been very polite and respectful, while at the same time, boisterous and comical.

Feeling slightly overwhelmed by the amount of people in the Great Hall, I decided to duck out again, seeking the sweet outside air. Walking on the encircling path once more, I literally bumped into Lord Boromir, who seemed to be anxiously searching for something. Or someone. My suspicions were confirmed when he asked me if I knew where Ehlon was. I shook my head, glad I was speaking the truth when I said no. He had a strange glint in his eyes, but I dismissed it as perhaps the result of drink or even the moonlight. When he had passed by, I shook my head to clear it, for of course Ehlon would be able to handle him herself.

Branching off on another path, I stepped into a small meadow, where I saw two figures standing close together beneath the moon, speaking in hushed Elfish. Catching the glint of ebony hair and the shimmering of Ranger's clothes, I instantly stopped in my tracks, knowing it was Arwen and Aragorn. I had supposed the two were connected somehow, and I did not wish to shatter the rare chance they had to be alone together. I was about to turn on my heel when Aragorn called out.

"Who's there?"

I froze, still in the process of deciding whether or not I should make my presence known.

Arwen laughed quietly. "Amira, there is no need to feel unwelcome." Aragorn stepped away from her slightly, still holding onto the Lady's hand.

"I am sorry to have so rudely interrupted your moment together," I apologized, blushing slightly, suddenly very glad I was still standing in the shadows. "I did not know you were both here. I will leave, and may I hope peace resumes in my absence."

Aragorn chuckled, beckoning me closer. "Come, young Ranger. Our relationship is no secret in Imladris,"

A few steps took me from beneath the trees and into the meadow itself, where I was instantly bathed in soft moonlight.

Looking up, I met Arwen's steady gaze. In this light, she looked like a great Elven Queen. Then she reached toward her neck, unclasping a necklace and holding it up in her fist. "Since you are here now, I would like to give you this, Amira. You are the protector of the Hobbits, but have nothing to protect you. This necklace will be your guide and warn you to danger..." My eyes widened as she unfurled her fingers to reveal the delicate necklace, which shone in silver and was laced with emerald. A small jade pendant, in the shape of the White Tree, hung from the silver chain, and my eyes widened as its colours seemed to change in hue beneath the moonlight.

I gaped at Arwen. "I cannot take this."

Aragorn chuckled. "I said a similar thing when she gave me this..." And he partially drew out the shimmering Evenstar, which had been clasped around his neck and hidden beneath his Ranger clothes. I gaped again, but soon closed my parted lips.

"Please, Amira, it would ease my heart." Arwen insisted, looking deeply into my eyes. Then, with a small sigh, she unclasped the chain and drew it over my head, clasping it again around my neck. It dropped to my neckline, the pendant glowing a soft green.

"There," she said, satisfied, her finger brushing the pendant once more before she drew back.

"I-I. Thank-you," I responded in a slight stammer, and she merely nodded. "I will leave you both now, and..." I touched the pendant in wonder, trying to compose my likely shell-shocked expression. I looked back up again. "Thank-you."

Bowing deeply to both of them, I left them beneath the moon, whispering Elfish words that brushed over the meadow like a caress. When I went to my room, I smiled before falling into a deep sleep.

* * *

When I awoke, a cold wind was blowing through the window I'd left open the night before. With a frown, I shut it, finding it strange that the weather could make such a drastic turn in one night. Picking up my Ranger clothes, ones which had been graciously recreated by the Elves, I put them on quickly, standing in the mirror briefly to check the fit. Of course, the fit was perfect, and the material clung to my skin comfortably, soft and warm on the inside, but very durable on the outside. The colours were my usual blend of light and dark green, which was fairly standard with most Rangers of the day.

Turning away from the mirror, I lay my assorted weapons on the bed, glad I had taken the time the previous day to clean and polish them. Muttering a Dunedain war prayer, I placed each weapon in its correct position on my body: sword at the hip, bow and quiver on my back, and one dagger down my boot, the other by my thigh. Satisfied that everything was in its place, I slipped out of my room and into the silent hall. I turned the corner, and saw Arwen at the end of the corridor.

"Good morning!" she greeted me, smiling. "I hope you slept well."

I grinned, my heart light. "Yes, I slept wonderfully, thank-you Arwen."

"I was just coming to rouse you, but now that I see you are awake, you must come to the courtyard, for the others are already beginning to gather," she said, taking my hand. With quick footsteps, she led me down the hall toward the archway leading into the courtyard before the gates.

Reflecting Arwen's words, Gimli, Legolas, Aragorn and Ehlon were already present, speaking lowly amongst each other. The Hobbits, I noticed, where nowhere in sight. The sky, surprisingly dark, hung ominously over them, as though the Shadow was truly falling over Rivendell at last.

Turning toward me, they bade me a good morning and I smiled at them all, clearing away those dark thoughts.

"And where are the Hobbits?" I asked Ehlon, who merely shrugged, her Ranger's clothes having been recreated as well.

"I hope they didn't drink too much ale last night," Aragorn said quietly, looking partially amused.

"It _was_ good ale," Gimli muttered, looking as though he'd swallowed a lemon: clearly this admittance had been difficult for him. I bit back a smile as Legolas rolled his neck to the side, sighing slightly.

"There's something in the air I don't like," the Prince murmured, and I realized it wasn't just me who felt it.

"It can't be..." Ehlon trailed off, and I caught her eye.

"The Shadow is trying to reach us here, but I think it has failed, leaving behind this weather." I said, and she frowned, processing my words.

"It isn't regularly cold like this," Legolas spoke up, "Especially after a such a warm night."

Aragorn looked up at the sky, as though seeking answers. "I believe Amira is right...The Shadow is searching."

Gimli shivered, "I don't like all this dark talk."

"Whether you like it or not, the Darkness is growing." Legolas put in, and the Dwarf's head snapped up to gaze at the tall Elf. "Soon, there will be no place untouched."

Ehlon spoke up quickly. "That is why our quest is of such heaviness, of such importance, Master Dwarf."

The Dwarf clutched his axe tighter, puffing out his chest. "Well, My Lady, I'm not one to duck out of any such quests, no matter how dark the lands they travel to!"

I smiled. "Dwarves are hardly faint of heart in battle, indeed. It is an unquestionable fact that echoes throughout history."

Gimli grinned at me, triumph written over his face. "Yes, that is certainly true lass!"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Legolas smirk, but not out of ill will. Footsteps clambered in our direction, and when I turned toward their sound, I saw that it was the Hobbits.

"Well!" Merry exclaimed, "You're all up already! We thought we'd awakened far earlier than you."

"I suppose not," Ehlon said with a grin, and Frodo smiled faintly, something seeming to be weighing on him. Taking him aside, I knelt in front of the Ringbearer,

"Do you feel the Shadow too, Frodo?" I murmured, and he nodded, his eyes wide and frightened.

"There is no need for fear this far from Mordor." I said, hoping my words were true. "We will all protect you."

He smiled, a stronger one this time. "Thank-you Amira."

I nodded, returning his smile reassuringly.

Walking with Frodo, I saw that Lord Elrond, Arwen, Gandalf, and several others whom I did not recognize had gathered on the front steps by the Fellowship. More and more Elves gathered around us in a semi-circle, silent and unusually solemn as Lord Elrond stepped forward toward us.

"The Ringbearer is setting out on the quest for Mount Doom," Lord Elrond began, his rich voice carrying over the courtyard. "And you who travel with him, no oath nor bond is laid to go further than you will." He paused, stopping directly in front of us, casting his gaze at each member of the Fellowship. When his eyes landed on mine, I bowed my head and I saw him smile.

"Farewell. Hold to your purpose and may the blessings of elves, and men, and all free folk go with you," he finished, and there was a steady silence as his words echoed in our minds.

Gandalf stepped forward, gesturing with his staff. "The Fellowship awaits the Ringbearer."

All eyes turned to Frodo, who shifted nervously for a moment before straightening his shoulders and walking through the arches that led to the gate, the rest of the Fellowship following after him, two at a time. Once we had reached the other side of the arch, we stopped and looked back. The voices of the Elves rose up suddenly in a song of farewell, and it was so beautiful and sad that it nearly brought tears to my eyes. Lord Elrond, Arwen and Gandalf led the way after us, along with the other Elves who streamed slowly behind them.

Moving slowly and almost mournfully, the Fellowship passed through the gates of Rivendell, stopping before the stone road declined downward through the forest. Gandalf stepped forward into the Fellowship, standing next to Ehlon and I, and Arwen gazed deeply at Aragorn from where she stood beside her father. It was as though wordless promises and reassurances were being communicated through their eyes. Finally, she broke the connection and glanced at me, smiling as though she had read my thoughts.

"This shall be your last farewell from Rivendell for much time," Elrond began, breaking the solemn silence that had descended. He moved forward, and nodding his head toward some of the Elves, they broke into song again. He touched Gimli's shoulder, exchanging some words with the Dwarf before laying a finger on Ehlon's cheek. His lips moved so quickly and softly I did not hear his words, but Ehlon nodded, her jaw slightly tensed. Lord Elrond turned to me, and when I bowed my head, a smile formed on his face.

"You are far more than meets the eye, Amira," he whispered, "Remember your strength in times when none appears to be left." Then he touched my cheekbone much like he had Ehlon's. "May the Valar watch over you and Elbereth light your path."

Before I could thank him, he had turned to Gandalf. To my left, I saw Arwen moving toward me. Bowing my head, I then met her eyes. Unexpectedly, she pulled me into an embrace.

"Look after Ehlon," she whispered in my ear, "You will be her guide as much as she will be yours." Releasing me, she smiled softly when she saw my confused expression.

"Come back to us," she said, and I nodded.

"Thank-you Lady Arwen..." I returned quietly, unable to voice what I was feeling at that moment. She seemed to understand, and nodded almost imperceptibly.

The Elves singing rose to a crescendo, and I knew the time had come. To the last, lingering farewells we walked slowly, almost unwillingly down the steep road from Rivendell. When the forest had swallowed up the songs and music, I felt my heart sink slightly. _This might be my last time here. _I tried not to dwell on it, but it was a feeling that had surged forward unexpectedly...

* * *

**Another short chapter, I'm afraid. Alas, Amira is leaving the beautiful valley of Imladris, now part of the Fellowship. Am I being too Mary-Sue by integrating Amira and Ehlon into the Fellowship, making it Eleven walkers rather than Nine? What are your thoughts, and/or your thoughts on Mary-Sue in general? Please comment and review, as they would all be greatly appreciated. Chapter Eight is on its way. :)**


	8. The Pass of Caradhras

**Chapter Eight – The Pass of Caradhras**

The days after our departure from Rivendell (on December 25th, TA 3018) blurred into one continuous day of walking, running, eating, walking, and sleeping. The clouds that had hung ominously over Rivendell cleared away, to my relief, for I wasn't in any mood to be travelling soaked to the bone as we'd done before. The sun shone brightly without any clouds to cloak its radiance, and I found myself enjoying the warmth as much as the Hobbits, who gleefully took off their heavy cloaks as the temperature rose. Soon enough I had to stuff my own cloak into my bag, relishing the feel of the sun's rays on my exposed arms.

At the end of the first day, Gandalf warned us to enjoy the warmth while it lasted.

"We must hold to this course west of the Misty Mountains for forty days. If our luck holds, the Gap of Rohan will still be open to us. From there, our road turns east, to Mordor," Gandalf announced as Sam prepared a hasty dinner. Ehlon nodded.

"The cold will descend soon enough," she remarked, echoing my own thoughts.

I kept watch the first night, not feeling the least bit tired when the sun rose in the morning. The Hobbits were in good spirits during our travelling, which I was glad of. Indeed, they were full of questions which they had not had the time to ask in previous days. They seemed to be particularly interested in the Ranger's lifestyle, pestering Aragorn, Ehlon, and I as we walked onward.

"What is it like to be a Ranger?" Pippin asked, gazing curiously up at Ehlon, who merely smiled down at him kindly. Gimli huffed slightly, moving away and muttering to himself.

Glancing sidelong at me, Ehlon sighed. "Well, Pippin, it's a difficult life to lead, but a rewarding one. Not all are made to be a Ranger; many sacrifices must be made. But the travelling makes up for it," she made a small arc with her hand, gesturing to our surroundings, "I would never get to see sights like these if I had stayed home and pretended that the Shadow had not fallen."

Merry piped up. "Why are you called Walker?"

I grinned slightly, aware that the Hobbit's curiosity ran along similar lines as mine.

Ehlon sighed. "I suppose it is because I have seen so much in Middle Earth," she paused in her explanation, frowning slightly, "and I have been walking alone for some time."

I glanced over at her, and saw that the Hobbits were gazing up at her, hanging on her every word. Pippin clapped his hands together, clearly bursting with questions.

"How old are you?" he asked excitedly, and Merry elbowed him in the ribs, making him yelp. "What? It's just a simple question!" The others chuckled.

"You don't ask a woman her age, Pip!" Merry exclaimed, "It's not proper!"

"But…Gandalf told me the Dunedain live to as much as 200 years of age! I thought that was interesting." Pippin defended himself.

I couldn't contain my amusement for any longer, and the Fellowship shared a simultaneous laughing spell for a moment as we continued onward.

Aragorn was the first to break the silence. "You are right about the Dunedain leading longer lives than most Men, Pippin. I am eighty seven years, in fact."

Pippin and Merry looked at him in surprise before turning expectantly to Ehlon, who merely chuckled at their wordless curiousity.

"I am eighty three, if you must know," Ehlon said with a small sigh.

The sun continued to shine...

* * *

We stopped a rocky hilltop for lunch, and once we had hastily eaten, Gandalf sat on a promontory, puffing smoke rings of various sizes over the grassy land. Walking up to him, I sat down on a nearby boulder, watching while Boromir taught the Hobbits a few simple sword blocks.

"Everyone seems to be in good spirits," I mused quietly, and Gandalf nodded, his eyes faraway as he blew another smoke ring.

Boromir's voice rose from below us. "On your toes, Pippin. Very good. Move away from the blade, good. I want you to react, not think. There you go!" I found myself amused as the big man patiently instructed little Pippin, who nodded seriously as Boromir arranged his hands on the hilt for a better hold.

When the two resumed their lesson, Gandalf sighed, turning toward me. "All will be well as long as the Ring's power does not affect the others."

I nodded, looking back toward Boromir and the Hobbits. I shivered slightly, remembering the way the Ring had warped Boromir's voice and replaced his words with its own, and so convincingly!

"Yes," I said simply, shaking my head. "Such things cannot be underestimated."

Gandalf exhaled, reshaping the smoke ring into a little ship, making me laugh. He used to make little ship replicas out of smoke rings when I was small, and it still made me laugh now. When he looked at me again, his eyes were twinkling with mirth. "As long as spirits remain strong, and the bodies healthy, the Ring will stay silent," his eyes lost their mischievous glint and turned serious, "But when our travels take us closer and closer to Mordor, and food is scarce...mind and body will be weak. The Ring will be at its most powerful then."

I frowned, "Our hearts will have to be stronger."

He smiled faintly, turning back to look upon the scene below us. "For some it may take every ounce of their will, every strength they possess to fight it."

My frown deepened as I wondered if he was referring to me. Did he think I would react to the Ring in the way Boromir had at the Council?

Gandalf laughed suddenly, rising and patting my hand. "Ah, Amira, your heart and will are strong. Do not worry, but..." he leaned closer to me, lowering his voice to a whisper, "be on your guard at all times. You may never know when the Ring will pick its time to strike."

I swallowed the lump in my throat, nodding. He squeezed my hand, moving in front of me and returning to our temporary camp.

I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn't even hear Legolas behind me until he was near enough to touch my shoulder. I whirled around, my heartbeat booming in my ears. He was grinning, and I relaxed when he sat down where Gandalf had moments before.

"Wandering in thought, Amira?" he asked quietly, and I took a deep breath, my heart rate levelling off.

I laughed slightly, shaking my head in embarrassment. "So much that I didn't even hear you."

He smiled kindly, looking out across the rocky plain. "Elven footsteps are light."

I sighed. "I should not be letting my defences go."

Legolas glanced at me sharply, taking in my expression before returning his gaze to the camp. He opened his mouth to speak, but then his entire body went rigid. A dark sensation swept over me, and the Prince and I rose at the same time. My hand went to the hilt of my sword, ready to draw at any moment.

Distantly, I heard Sam's voice. "What is that?"

I drew my gaze up toward the sky, as did Legolas. There was a grey, mist-like cloud moving toward us, and that same blackness pressed into my mind once more.

"Nothing," Gimli muttered dismissively, "just a wisp of cloud."

"It's moving fast," Boromir pointed out, crouching near the Hobbits, "...against the wind."

Legolas jumped down from his boulder. "Crebain from Dunland!" he cried, and I repressed a shiver.

"They are watching," Gandalf said in his usual calm tone, as Aragorn yelled, "_Hide!_"

Legolas turned to me, and we ran down the slope toward the camp. Within seconds, the Fellowship had grabbed anything within sight in our camp and hid it under bushes or boulders. A hand grabbed mine and pulled me in the direction of a cavernous boulder. Pressing my back against the stone and making myself as small as I could, I heard the cacophonous cry of the birds as they approached our recently bare camp. The hand gripped my upper arm, and I had to wait until my eyes adjusted until I could vaguely recognize Aragorn's form huddling next to mine. I could hear the birds circling, calling out to each other with high pitched shrieks, and in the next moment, the darkness had retreated and the sounds had left with it. The spies were gone.

We waited, barely breathing, and then Aragorn squeezed my arm, signalling me to move. Relaxing, I staggered out from under the boulder, blinded momentarily by the intense sunlight. Gandalf had emerged from his own hiding spot, and I could see Ehlon and Sam appear from behind another boulder.

"Spies of Saruman!" Gandalf grumbled, staring up at the sky, "The passage to the South is being watched." He sighed, sweeping his gaze to the Fellowship, now having completely come out from their respective hiding places. "We must take the pass of Caradhras."

Next to me, Aragorn frowned. "Will that not be watched as well, Gandalf?"

My mentor sighed again, "It is the one choice we have left."

Aragorn nodded, straightening his shoulders. "We will be meeting the cold sooner than we expected," he said with a small grin, and solemn faces of the Fellowship brightened at his humour for a moment before turning serious once more.

Within minutes we had packed up the camp and were moving on, the late afternoon sun warm on our backs. Aragorn's words echoed in my mind as we trudged along: "_We will be meeting the cold sooner than we expected_". I had never been through the pass of Caradhras before, but from the stories I'd heard in my travels and accounts from Gandalf, it was a dangerous, often deadly, venture. Avalanches and high winds had taken many lives, and one man I had known in the North had lost part of his nose and two fingers to the freezing temperatures at the height of the pass. I shivered as I imagined our upcoming journey, and made a silent prayer that nothing ill would befall us.

* * *

The following days were rushed, as we hastily made our way closer and closer to the looming mountains before us. The sun continued to shine warmly throughout the day, but during the nights the temperature began to drop. The Hobbits huddled together during these nights to keep warm, but the rest of the Fellowship remained separate in a chilled, lonely vigil. As we neared the great Caradhras, it became so that we needed to keep our bodies moving at all times to keep from catching a debilitating chill. I was very grateful for the Elven clothing that kept out the cold, but I became more and more concerned for the Hobbits, who stumbled and staggered up the frozen slope toward Caradhras. The horse, Bill, was also having a difficult time, but I was impressed with the creature's endurance as it trudged along. Field after field of snow yawned in front of us, and it seemed as though we made little progress at the end of the day.

The Fellowship remained mostly silent, including the Hobbits, only speaking to thank for the miniscule meals or comment on the wind that howled above our heads. Of course, as we ascended higher, plants became increasingly scarce until none grew at all in the icy soil. Shortly after there was no food left, and our only source of water was to scoop snow in our hands and melt it in our mouths. Predictably, as I had experienced in past snowy excursions, this left us feeling more thirsty than ever, but none complained. Boromir spoke once about shooting a bird to cook, but there were no animals in sight and a fire would have been impossible to make. We tightened our belts and kept on.

At night it became so bitterly cold that no clothes, Elven made or otherwise, could keep the shivering at bay. We huddled close together, leaning against each other to keep as warm as possible. Even Gimli, the most enduring of us all, felt the cold. Legolas wrapped his cloak around me tightly on those nights, and I would have protested if I had had more energy left at the end of the day. Ehlon in particular was present in those moments of exhaustion, and she would often be the shoulder I sagged against when consciousness left me.

On the second day, the wind descended lower, tearing at our clothes and whipping hair into our faces. The sky remained clear for the third day, but on the fourth, Legolas reported an oncoming snow storm he had seen from a rocky promontory.

"We must hasten!" he exclaimed, and Gandalf sighed wearily, glancing over at the Hobbits who were huddling together to keep warm.

"Yes," my mentor breathed out, leaning on his staff. "We must keep moving." Turning sharply, he called to the Hobbits, "Up! Come, friends, we walk again!"

On we went, walking quickly until the storm hit. The wind transformed from a mere howl to a keening wail, then to a high pitch scream as it tore through the pass, threatening at times to knock us over. Leaning forward, we stood our ground and continued our way. Small pieces of ice bit into my face, and I squinted against the falling snow that began to white out the slope in front of us. When the wind began to swirl in all directions, it brought snow down my neck and up my arms, making me shiver as more cold set in.

Sam stumbled and bumped into me. When I righted him, I remained close by his side, keeping my hand on his shoulder and talking to him to make sure he didn't surrender to the cold. Looking back, I realize it helped me battle my own exhaustion as much as it aided him...

* * *

When the weather turned worse and the Hobbits became wearier, Gandalf called for us to stop momentarily. When we resumed our walking, Aragorn and Boromir were each carrying a shivering Hobbit on their back, and Bill bore the weight of Frodo and Sam. I watched Frodo carefully, noticing that he was the weakest of them all, drooping forward on the horse and closing his eyes. The snow caved away beneath my weight and I sunk in up to my knee, staggering forward and falling. I cursed under my breath and pulled myself upright, feeling a hand grab mine.

It was Ehlon, looking worriedly at me.

"I'm fine," I insisted, squeezing her hand as I turned to continue on. She stayed near me after that, and we both assisted each other when we stumbled or fell...

* * *

Although it was impossible to tell the time in the whiteness that surrounded us, I estimated it was late afternoon when it happened.

"There are fell voices in the air!" Boromir cried from up ahead, his voice carrying above the howling wind. That familiar dread trickled down my spine as my senses suddenly exploded, coinciding with Gandalf's shout.

_"It's Saruman!"_

There was a terrible fracturing noise above us, loud like a crack of lightning. I could feel the ground trembling, and when I looked up, boulders were rolling down toward us. Pushing with all my force toward the side of the mountain, I bowled Ehlon against it, narrowly escaping being crushed by an oncoming boulder. Gasping, she pushed us upright, the momentum sparking our run toward the others as more boulders crashed downward.

"He's trying to bring the mountain down!" Aragorn yelled, struggling to pull along Bill, who was terrified out of his wits as the mountain continued to shake and roar. "Gandalf, we must turn back!"

Gandalf shot a glance over his shoulder at Ehlon and I. "No!" he cried, jumping to an outcropping of rocks, starting in on a chant against Saruman. "_Losto Caradhras, sedho, hodo, nuitho I ruith!_" 'Sleep Caradhras, be still, lie still, hold your wrath!'

Gimli rolled out of the path of a boulder, and then suddenly there was a blinding flash of light as lightning struck the top of the mountain. Almost in slow motion, the snow that had lain at the peak was sliding down in a deadly ivory blanket toward us. I heard someone shouting, but I did not hear their words. Simultaneously we all began running, but it was far too late.

The snow crashed over us, and immediately I was buried. I choked on the snow, feeling it weigh heavily on my body, smothering me. The pressure grew heavier as the snow settled, and I could not tell which direction was up or down. I pushed forward with my hands, trying not to panic. I nearly wept with relief when I pushed through the snow, my hands grasping nothing but air. In a fury of movements, I dug myself out, pushing myself upward in a desperate struggle against the freezing cold that seemed to weight on my limbs. I got to my waist, and I was pulling my legs through when hands dragged me out the rest of the way. It was a snow covered Boromir.

I thanked him, but then my attention was turned to Sam, who was calling urgently for help.

"_Help us!_ C'mon Walker, you're almost out!" he yelled, and I rushed forward to where I saw Ehlon's head emerging from a particularly large mound of snow. Sam was pulling with all his strength but he could not get her to budge.

I knelt next to him, "We can pull together Sam," I said.

A look of determination crossed his face, and grabbing her forearms, we gave a large pull. With her struggling alongside of our efforts, her shoulders managed to emerge from the pressing snow. There was another roar from the mountain, and when I looked up, another small blanket of snow was sliding directly toward us. I pulled her arms furiously, but the snow was upon Sam and me before I could do anything, burying us all.

Luckily, I wasn't buried deeply. Gasping, I broke the surface of the snow. There were shouts and calls from the others, but my ears were filled with white noise and I did not hear their words. Sam popped up next to me, and together we shovelled away with our hands. I touched Ehlon's arm, and I cleared the snow away from her head, seeing an expression I had never expected to see on her face: _surrender_.

"C'mon Ehlon,_ c'mon!_" I begged, grabbing her forearms again and pulling with all my strength alongside Sam. She remained limp, not even moving to help me with my struggle. Her eyes were strangely lifeless.

"I can't," she whispered, and suddenly I was incredibly angry, an abrupt surge of energy washing over me.

"_Yes you can_!" I hissed. Pushing my hands into the snow, I grabbed her under the armpits and pulled with everything I had. She wormed and struggled along, and then finally she was out, both of us gasping and shivering as we lay on the snow. Sam rose from his crouch, checking Ehlon for injury, but she pushed him gently away.

"My Lady!" Boromir cried, running and falling to his knees next to her. "Are you alright?"

She took a deep breath, glancing at me. "I'm fine," she said quietly, her voice surprisingly calm and steady. Then her eyes narrowed, her focus near my neck. Lowering my gaze toward where she was looking, my eyes widened when I saw what she did: the White Tree pendant on the necklace Arwen had given me was glowing a dark jade colour where it had fallen over my Ranger's clothes. Amazed, I realized that the Elven magic had caused my surge of energy to pull Ehlon out of the snow.

Looking up to meet her eyes, I saw in them that she had realized the same thing I had. She moved into a crouching position, and I wearily forced my muscles to unlock themselves and allow me to stand. Aragorn, who I had not noticed there, clasped my shoulder.

"Is everything alright?" he asked quietly. I nodded distantly, watching as Ehlon drew herself up smoothly. It was as though her moment of surrender had never occurred.

Gandalf appeared with Legolas, the Hobbits, Gimli, and Bill trailing behind them. The wind, which had gone silent for a moment, returned howling down upon us.

"We must get off the mountain!" Boromir yelled at Gandalf. "Make for the Gap of Rohan and take the West road to my city,"

Aragorn turned toward Boromir, a frown forming on his face. "The Gap of Rohan takes us too close to Isengard."

Gimli spoke, "We cannot pass over the mountain. Let us go under it and through the mines of Moria," When I glanced over at him, I noted with inappropriate amusement that his beard was full of snow. I watched Aragorn frown deeply.

"Moria is fell," he said in a quiet voice, "I have been through it before, Gandalf, and once you are through the Doors, beware!"

"Let the Ringbearer decide," Gandalf said with a sigh, and everyone turned to face Frodo.

Boromir let out a frustrated huff. "We cannot stay here! This will be the death to the Hobbits!"

Ehlon, looking as though she had regained her strength, touched the Ringbearer's shoulder. "Frodo?" she prompted, and there was indecisiveness on his face before it cleared away.

"We will go through the Mines," he said in a strong voice.

There was a long, uncomfortable pause that was filled only with the howling wind. At last, Gandalf spoke. "So be it," he said quietly, turning and starting toward the opposite direction, back down the slope.

Boromir's face took on a look of disbelief before he joined Legolas, Aragorn, the Hobbits and their horse in a descent down the mountain. I hesitated, as did Ehlon.

She looked at me fully. "Amira..." she trailed off, "you saved my life."

I shook my head. "Arwen did." She just smiled, shaking her head. Stepping forward, she shocked me by pulling me into a partial embrace.

"The necklaces act according to your will, to what is in your heart," she murmured, pulling back. "Come, young one..."

* * *

Once we had descended the Caradhras pass, there was a collective sigh of relief to be gone from the howling wind that sucked away warmth and the snow that constantly tried to smother us. Gimli was in his glory in the rocky land that we entered, with its dark cliffs and gloomy pools of ancient water. The place seemed to be bursting with secrets, and there were whispers that weren't merely the gentle breeze in the air. It was as though no one had passed through in years; the stone echoed loneliness as we clambered over cliffs and gullies. Finally, we found ourselves in a canyon so narrow it could only be described as a trench. Steep cliff walls, drenched with seeping water, stood like giants on either side of us, and there were pools and small lakes at every turn. There were very few trees, and the ones that survived in the dark, stony trench were twisted and gnarled as though every moment of their lives had been harsh and forbidding. A musty smell filled the air, and I became more and more uncomfortable as we continued on our way.

Sam spotted a grove of edible plants and uraka root, which I helped him harvest quickly. He packed it into the leather food bag with expertise, handing out a portion to each of the Fellowship. It quelled our ravenous hunger to an extent, but it did not decrease our growing thirst. The pools of water were a distant option, but I did not trust them one bit, especially their seemingly poisonous black colour...

We passed through a particular section of rock, and Gimli stopped, his expression stricken.

"The walls of Moria!" he whispered in awe, but I did not see anything different about the cliff compared to what we'd passed earlier.

Light left the narrow canyon as daylight ebbed away into night, but no stars shone in the ever darkening sky. The gloomy pools turned into a round lake, and although it looked like any of the others we had passed, this one seemed touched with a particular darkness that made me uneasy. Something evil hid beneath the calm, black waters, I was certain. When Gandalf stopped to survey the wall, I felt a growing sensation that we should leave.

"Dwarf doors are not made to be seen when shut," Gimli announced with a touch of pride in his voice. "They are invisible!"

Gandalf, looking intently at the wall and touching it with the palms of his hands in various places, agreed. "Yes, Gimli, and even their masters cannot find them if their secrets are forgotten."

I bit my lip to keep back what would have been an inappropriate snicker, but the Hobbits couldn't contain themselves and chuckled.

"But you must not worry," Gandalf went on, "When looking for the door, one must simply know what to look for."

He continued to murmur to himself, and the Hobbits sighed, sitting down with their backs against the wall and looking out across the lake. Suddenly, Gandalf's whisper met our ears.

"Itidin… it mirrors only starlight and moonlight," he said as he turned to face the sky. The clouds had moved away, revealing the shining stars and crescent moon set in the ebony night.

I smiled as I looked up, taking in the beauty and the light. Ehlon tapped my shoulder, and when I turned around, the once invisible door to Moria was shining silver. Clear and luminous, it glowed with lines of script and ancient symbols twisting together to form an archway. My eyes widened.

Gandalf continued on, pointing at the words that glowed above the door with his staff as he read them aloud to us. "It reads; 'The door of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak, friend, and enter,'"

"What do you suppose that means?" Merry asked, completely taken aback.

"It's quite simple. If you are a friend, speak the password and the doors will open," Gandalf said confidently, smiling down at the Hobbit. He turned back to the door and put the head of his staff to the star in the centre of the door, singing out, "Annon edhellen, edro hi ammen!" 'Gate of the Elves, open now for us!'

I waited expectantly, but nothing happened. After a moment, Gandalf resorted to pushing against the doors. I sighed and turned to sit on a nearby boulder. We would be here awhile...

(We reached this western gate of Moria on January 13th, TA 3019, by my later calculations.)

* * *

**I would just like to thank you all for staying with me so far. :) Their journey into Moria was easily one of my favourite sections to write. I can only imagine how terrorizing the entire experience must have been for them..**.

**I have also taken great care to _not_ turn Lord Boromir into the villain in this story, as some authors have done. I think he is a strong, and good man, but his desires do make some of that strength turn to weakness. I will upload Chapter 9 very soon, and unlike the shorter chapters you have been seeing for the past couple of days, Chapter 9 is very long.**

**Please comment and review, as it inspires me.**


	9. Watcher in the Water, Mines, & The Fall

**Chapter Nine – The Watcher in the Water, the Mines and the Fall**

By my estimation, a half an hour passed and Gandalf had still not made progress on the Door. I sighed to myself, listening while he tried dozens of varying incantations without result. To my right Ehlon was sitting on a nearby boulder as well, seemingly lost in thought as she waited. Aragorn was helping Sam rid Bill of his burden, and I watched as Sam tearfully allowed his beloved horse to amble away. Boromir sat with visible boredom near Gandalf, and Legolas leaned against the wall near Aragorn, looking down on the lake with its many reflections of the stars.

The Hobbits, however, were very patient. I speculated that they were glad, as the rest of us may have secretly felt, to have been given the chance to rest. The trouble and unease I had sensed began when Boromir tossed the stones into the lake. Aragorn ran over.

"Do not disturb the water!" he hissed at the Gondorian, but I didn't relax. The water rippled and seemed to boil slightly, and the uncomfortable feeling elevated inside me. Rising, I stood rigidly, staring down into the water. Next to my skin the necklace was growing warm. When I fished it out, the pendant was glowing that same dark jade.

_ Danger._

"There is something in that water," I said, and Aragorn nodded, his eyes radiating worry. Ehlon stepped beside me, and we three gazed at the trembling surface of the water. Its waves were breaking to the shore in abnormal patterns, but nothing stirred to its surface.

Frodo spoke up suddenly. "It's a riddle!"

I glanced over my shoulder at his exclamation, and Gandalf frowned as he continued.

"Speak 'friend' and enter...Gandalf, what is the elven word for 'friend'?"

"Mellon," Gandalf murmured slowly. With a groan, the doors slid open, stone grinding on stone. We all turned to face the entrance to the mine, and Gimli jumped up happily, laughing to himself.

"Soon, Master Elf," Gimli began, speaking to Legolas, "You will enjoy the fabled hospitality of the dwarves; roaring fires, malt beer, red meat off the bone..." Gathering together by the entrance, we followed Gandalf's lead into the mine. Rather than leaving the growing disquiet behind, it was accentuated when I smelled a familiar scent and heard nothing but our own footsteps on the dusty floor.

"This, my friend, is the home of my cousin, Balin. And they call this a mine!" He snorted as if at a joke. "A mine!"

Bringing his hand up to his staff, Gandalf spread light around the cavern, showing the dirty floors, dark halls, and broken stairs.

The realizations came crashing down all at once, and the grim voice of Boromir reached my ears. "This is no mine…" he began. "It's a tomb!" Around us lay the dead bodies of fallen dwarves, their bones and weapons scattered. The Hobbits shuffled behind me, looking down at the corpses as they scrambled further back in their terror.

"Oh, no… no… NOOOO!" Gimli cried in horror, his voice echoing in the hall.

"Goblins!" Legolas suddenly hissed, having surveyed an arrow stuck in the skull of a Dwarf. Everyone drew their weapons, and I raked my gaze around the cavernous hall, my eyes making forms out of nothing and my ears filled with echoes that were only from our footsteps.

"We make for the Gap of Rohan," Boromir murmured angrily. "We should never have come here. Now, get out of here. Get out!"

There was a sudden roaring in my ears as my warrior senses exploded. In slow motion, I turned to see the dark tentacles reaching out toward the unsuspecting Hobbits. Grabbed roughly from behind, Frodo cried out as the slimy tentacle snaked itself around the Hobbit's middle and thrust him up into the air.

"Frodo!" Sam yelled, as Merry and Pippin shouted to Aragorn desperately. Pushing Merry away from an oncoming arm, and dodging one jabbing toward me, I slashed at the tentacle that had dragged Sam by the ankle toward the lake. Flopping to the ground with a sickly thud, the tentacle released its grip on Sam, who joined the other Hobbits as they stabbed at the arm holding Frodo in the air. The creature roared, throwing its other arms toward the rest of the Fellowship.

Sheathing my sword, I whipped my bow over my shoulder and, notching a hasty arrow, I loosened it at the tentacle wrapping itself tighter around the Ringbearer.

"Help!" he cried, but his voice was choked off as another arm covered the Hobbit's head.

I heard an arrow whizz by my ear, and saw it sink into the creature's eye. Bellowing horribly, the sound reverberating off the narrow cliff walls, it released its hold on Frodo. The Hobbit to crashed into the dark waters. Running forward into the water, I grabbed Frodo by the waist, dragging him to the shore. Someone was yelling, but when I turned around to face another oncoming tentacle, it was too late to react, too late to even scream. Clenching around my thigh, the arm dragged me into the lake, pushing me down beneath the surface. I could not see anything. The water pressed around me terribly, cold and black. Feeling my energy drain, I used the last of my strength to find the dagger in my boot and stab it deeply into the creature's arm. Distantly, I heard the answering roar, and suddenly I was free. Spluttering, I broke the surface, hustled by Aragorn to the shore.

"Into the Mines!" Gandalf shouted, slicing at an arm that thrust toward him. Someone cried out, and when I turned, I saw that it was Ehlon. In defending Frodo, she had been grabbed by the creature and was in the process of being dragged by her legs toward the lake.

"No!" I growled, drawing my sword as Aragorn and I rushed toward her.

"Run!" Aragorn yelled to the others, pushing away Frodo who was madly slashing at the tentacle in an effort to free Ehlon. Burying my sword into the arm, the creature screamed as its blood spurted in all directions. Another tentacle wrapped around my leg, dragging me onto my knees, but I cut it away from me. Turning back to Ehlon, I saw that Aragorn had freed her and he was pulling the lady Ranger into a standing position. Grabbing my arm, he launched us into the run of our lives. There was another bloodcurdling scream, and I could hear the creature lifting itself out of the water toward us in a full scale attack.

"Legolas!" Boromir shouted, and the Elf loosened a fury of arrows at the oncoming monster as we reached the rest of the Fellowship in the Mines. Tentacles flew past me to grip each side of the Doors, pulling itself forward. Glancing behind my shoulder, I saw the naked creature with its boiled black skin and mouth fitted with rows upon rows of dagger sharp teeth. The image imprinted on my memory for as long as I lived. Only later would I know the creature to be the Watcher in the Water, a being of indeterminable age and darkness. Many a Man, Elf, and Dwarf had fallen prey to its terrible jaws...

With its force, the creature brought down the doors and a section of the wall, and in one resounding crash, there was only darkness and silence as the only way out was cut off forever.

Suddenly, I was aware of my shaking form and the malodourous stink rising from my sodden clothes, the smell of the suffocating lake. I took a shuddering breath, hoping my strength would return soon. Arms wrapped around my shoulders, and I welcomed them easily, leaning against Ehlon. She took my weight wordlessly, her warmth transferring through to my chilled body.

Something slammed onto the ground, and Gandalf's staff filled the hall with an abrupt, bright light. Half blinded, I staggered forward slightly, feeling the lake water ooze inside my boots as I shifted. Ehlon slowly let me go, but another hand grabbed my shoulder – Legolas.

"Are you alright?" he murmured, and I nodded, running a hand through my soaked hair. It was then that I noticed my bow was missing: in my desperation to free myself, it had dropped to the bottom of the lake. I sighed, realizing all I had left was my sword and dagger.

"We have now but one choice," Gandalf intoned slowly, looking around the hall, "We must face the long dark of Moria. Be on your guard...There are older and fouler things than the Orcs and Sea monsters in the deep places of the world."

There was some shuffling, and everyone began to move forward. Ehlon shot me a significant look, and I nodded, relaying that I was fine.

"I think this is yours," a small voice said. When I looked in front of us, I saw Sam holding Ehlon's sword in his hands.

She smiled at him as she took it into her hands, bending down to kiss him briefly on the forehead. Blushing scarlet, he turned and shambled after the others. I chuckled lightly as we turned to follow after the rest of the Fellowship.

"Quietly now," Gandalf warned as one of the Hobbits tripped over a helmet, "It is a four day journey to the other side. Let us hope our presence will go unnoticed." How those words would echo in my mind forever more!

* * *

Our progress through the Mines was slow, as we cautiously picked our way through the devastation left behind by the Goblins and Orcs which had ravaged it. The once glorious halls were soiled and wreaked with the scent of stale death, and the mine shafts diving beneath our feet had rotting scaffolding and ladders leading into the Stygian deep below.

We stopped by one of these mining shafts for a moment, and Pippin and Merry peered curiously toward the scaffolding. Before any of us could react, Frodo laid a hand on Merry's shoulder, as he was leaning dangerously close to the shaft.

"The wealth of Moria lay not in gold, or jewels," Gandalf said quietly, gesturing toward the shafts, "...but in Mithril." The light of his staff momentarily chased away the darkness in the shaft, illuminating the depths. Moving back, he sighed. "Bilbo had a shirt of mithril rings that Thorin gave him."

"That was a Kingly gift!" Gimli exclaimed, his eyes bright as he turned sharply toward my mentor.

"Yes," Gandalf shook his head slowly, smiling, "I never told him, but its worth was more than the value of the entire Shire itself."

He turned away from the shafts, leading us on again.

* * *

I had no concept of time during those next hours in the Mines, for it felt as though an eternal night had been lain on Moria. There was no light to be spoken of, and our only source was from Gandalf's staff. And although I was grateful for what light we had, I yearned for the fresh, open air and sunshine as the stone walls seemed to press in on me the more time I spent among them. I was ill at ease, as were the rest of the Fellowship, I believe. I felt as though we were being watched, and my eyes played tricks on me constantly. The glinting of a rusty sword transformed into watchful eyes, and the body of a fallen Dwarf became an Orc lying in wait in the shadows. My heartbeat never steadied, and it felt as though my nerves would ever be frayed as long as I remained in the deeps of Moria.

Even the Hobbits were silent as they shuffled behind Boromir and Gandalf. The few murmurs that they exchanged with each other ran along the lines of food and the occasional comment on their surroundings. Otherwise, they did not speak. The entire aura of the place was disconcerting, even if one overlooked the smell and the corpses.

Although I did not have any concept of day or night, I approximated it was two days that we had travelled through the twisting roughhewn pathways and cavernous corridors when we approached a circular structure consisting of three archways. Gazing down each of them, I noted that they seemed to lead in three separate directions.

Gandalf halted, sighing to himself. "I have no memory of this place," he murmured, and my eyes widened. Would we travel in circles, never finding an escape? I pushed away that thought quickly, holding onto what hope I had left. Gandalf had more knowledge of the places in Middle Earth than anyone else I knew; he would get us out of here.

Ehlon groaned quietly in frustration, likely thinking similarly to me. Aragorn put a calming hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry. He knows what he's doing," he said.

We made a camp in the circle of archways, tending a small fire as we waited for Gandalf to decide which direction we would take. Everyone was quiet: Aragorn smoking his pipe pensively, Legolas watching the fire, Ehlon leaning her elbow on her knee, Boromir watching Ehlon, Gimli running his finger along his axe edge, and the Hobbits sitting together, munching on uraka root.

Finally, Merry broke the silence in a whisper. "Do you think we're lost?"

"I don't know," Pippin answered, drawing his knees up to his chest.

"Shh, Gandalf is thinking," Frodo whispered back.

"Merry?" Pippin asked, and the Hobbit in question looked his way.

"What?"

"Don't you ever get tired of uraka root?"

I bit my lip, shaking from repressed laughter. I caught Boromir's eye, and he smiled in amusement. Standing up, I brushed the dust off my trouser legs and stepped quietly over to Gandalf.

He looked up, smiling distantly at me. Sitting down on a section of a stone wall nearby, I watched him and waited for something in his memory to click into place. Finally, he furrowed his brow and met my eyes.

"This place has me puzzled," he admitted quietly, and I nodded, offering him a reassuring smile.

"You'll think of it, yet. Maybe you merely need to eat something," I said, and he chuckled lightly. I stood up again. "I'll leave you to your thoughts."

He nodded in a silent thank-you, and I returned to the fire, noting the curious glances that were cast in my direction. I shook my head once, and the hope died in their eyes.

Watching the fire and welcoming its warmth, I was glad that my Elven clothes had dried so quickly. Even the odour had faded, although once and awhile I caught a whiff of it and was drawn back to that horrible duel with the creature in the lake. A few spots of its blood remained in various areas, but from my recollection, I had been mostly covered in it when we'd rushed into the Mine. The magic interwoven into the cloth had clearly caused most of the blood to shed away, and the spots that still remained would only take water to remove.

Ehlon shifted, rising and moving away from the fire to sit farther away. I felt an urge to join her, but decided to let her be alone, as it appeared this is what she desired.

I watched Boromir's eyes flick from the fire to her retreating form, and a muscle in his hand twitched, making me wonder if he would corner her while she was alone. A strange impulse moved me then, and I rose, walking softly over to where Ehlon sat. There was a coldness creeping up my spine, and it was nothing to do with Boromir's visible fascination with the lady Ranger...

Ehlon glanced curiously at me when I sat next to her on the bedrock, and that was when I saw it: a pair of eyes flashing gold in the light of the fire. Standing fluidly and drawing my sword, I advanced toward the creature. Seeing my sudden movement, it scuttled away immediately, its gaunt body disappearing into the black swamp of rancid water below us. Frodo and Legolas appeared at my elbow, gazing into the gloom where our spy had fled. The Prince was about to loosen an arrow, but I touched his shoulder and he nodded.

"What was that?" Frodo asked, gripping the Ring in his hand where it hung on a chain around his neck. I lowered my sword, my memory recalling the pale colour of the slimy skin and the stringy hair atop the pinched face.

"Gollum..." I murmured, and I turned to Aragorn, Legolas, and Ehlon. "So he's here." Ehlon frowned, squinting as she looked after the creature. There was a small splashing noise in the distance, but then silence reigned once more. I sheathed my sword.

Of course he would be found here! He must have been hiding from all, the free folk and Sauron alike, who were searching for him...

Aragorn sighed, "I suppose this is the sort of place he enjoys, where it is dark, cold, and reeking of death."

Frodo shivered. "Do you think he wants to kill us?"

"Nay," Legolas said, "he has not the tools to do so, and I merely think he was curious as to who we were. He is nothing to fear."

"Unless it is the Ring he desires," I put in quietly, and Frodo looked at me. "It would be best to be on your guard even more, now that we know Gollum resides in this place."

The Ringbearer nodded seriously. "You think the Ring has drawn him to us?" He asked with a frown, and I sighed.

"I cannot know, but I suspect it," I said, and then I shook my head. "As Legolas said, I do not think he will do us harm, but one can never predict the Ring's true power over those who appear unable to commit evil deeds..."

Legolas nodded, but it was Aragorn who spoke. "Indeed. The Ring might draw all sorts of evil to us, but I hope with all my heart it won't. Especially not here."

Frodo nodded once more, before turning on his heel to join the others by the fire.

Silence fell over us briefly as we all stared into the blackness.

"The food is running short," Ehlon murmured finally, "I do not know how long our journey ahead will be, but there is certainly nothing edible in these Mines. Nor is there untainted water."

"Let us hope Gandalf finds the way soon," Legolas sighed, moving away and resuming his perch on a set of stars by the black water.

"I do not doubt that he will," I muttered, "We have been in far worse situations, he and I." Briefly, I found myself back to the time three years ago when we had stumbled into what we guessed to be an underground palace, where jewels and gems were likely to be found. It took him nearly an entire week of stringing spells together to get those doors to open, and once he had finished the task, he was so weak he could barely walk. And it turned out that the palace had caved in years ago, the fortune and that forgotten realm buried. Gandalf was deeply perturbed...

"What's going on?" A gruff voice asked, and I saw that Gimli had walked up to us.

"Gollum has been watching us," Aragorn answered, and the Dwarf's eyes widened.

"Gollum!" he cried, lifting up his axe. "The traitor! Where is he?"

"Shh," Aragorn said, touching Gimli's shoulder. "He's gone. We do not think he will harm us."

"Why that slimy, filthy..." the Dwarf continued his muttering under his breath, lowering his axe begrudgingly.

* * *

Once most of the Fellowship had settled around the fire again, I turned my attention to Ehlon, who was sitting thirty feet on the stairs Legolas had occupied minutes before. Boromir rose, and I tensed as he swaggered over to her. I kept where I was, luckily, and listened as the Gondorian settled himself on the stair above Ehlon, watching her intently. From my position, I could make out his eyes raking over her form. Looking away, I repressed a shiver, wondering what sort of devilry the man was up to now.

Although he was clearly attempting to conceal the conversation by using lower tones, I could hear his voice loud and clear.

"Tell me, my Lady, why do you fight when there is so little hope?" he asked, his voice somehow unnatural. "War is the providence of Men, my Lady, especially in times such as these. I admire your spirit, but I cannot help but wonder why, of all times, you choose to lay your life on that path toward a certain death."

She turned to look up at him. "I fight because I cannot hide in the shadows of the mountains and valleys that have been my home for so many years. Home is no longer safe. If I hid, then I would be succumbing to the hopelessness that Sauron knows will breed in Men and render them weak," she answered slowly, her tone cautious. "I have the choice to fight hopelessness, and I intend to fight it until the very last of our kind stands upon this earth."

"But surely there are those who are concerned for your safety?" he questioned, "Your mother, and your father most of all? Or a brother?" I winced as Ehlon responded.

"There are none to extend such concern to me, Boromir," came her quiet voice.

Boromir gasped, and quickly apologized. "My apologies, my Lady-"

She put a hand on his knee to silence him before giving him a small, sad smile. "There is no need. It was long ago."

He frowned, and her hand retreated. "In my country, women taking part in battle and embarking on journeys in the garb of men is not behaviour men expect out their wives or daughters. Is it different for the Dunedain?" I ground my teeth slightly, and I wondered if the lady Ranger was reacting the same. Her patience thus far impressed me.

"We female Rangers are few and far between," she said tersely, "but those who do come of age in times of war and train in the ways of battle are respected by their male counterparts, though perhaps not openly. We may be viewed with suspicion in my region, Lord Boromir, but it does not mean that all women are destined to sit in their houses to mend the linen and stir the broth on the fire."

Boromir did not comment further.

Sighing, Ehlon rose abruptly, moving away from the Gondorian. I watched as she walked toward me, sinking down close by. I thought of teasing her, but judging by her sour mood, I decided it best if I didn't. Reaching out, I touched her hand, and her head snapped up. I smiled reassuringly, and she returned it half-heartedly, her eyes sad.

"Avo ten' ir melin," I whispered. 'Do not be sad.'

She shook her head but did not say anything.

"Ah!" A satisfied cry came from Gandalf, and when I turned around, I saw that he was standing. "It's that way!"

Ehlon and I stood quickly, gathering by the others as they scrambled around packing up our camp.

"He's remembered!" Merry exclaimed happily, and I couldn't help but smile. We would be travelling away from this place very soon!

"No, but the air doesn't smell so foul down there. If in doubt, Meriadoc, always follow your nose!" My mentor replied, and I laughed, following the Fellowship down the stairs Gandalf led us down.

Sometime later, we emerged into a dark hall. "Let me risk a little more light," Gandalf murmured, and with light flowing freely from his staff, the tall black columns were revealed. They continued far past what my eyes could see, standing taller than many of the trees that grew in Middle Earth, with simple square carving etched into them. Despite their foreboding presence, they had a quiet, dark beauty about them.

"Behold!" Gandalf announced, "The great realm and Dwarf city of Dwarrowdelf!"

"Well, there's an eye opener and no mistake," Sam murmured beside me, as he looked out around him in awe, as did the others. He turned to Ehlon.

"Have you seen anything like this, Walker?" he asked, clearly in a habit of using her alias name.

She shook her head, smiling down at him, her sour mood seeming to have dissipated upon Gandalf's earlier revelation. "I have seen many things, Samwise Gamgee, but never like this."

* * *

We continued through the forest of columns, and the unease that had ebbed before our arrival in this great hall returned sharply. There was something sinister about the silence in the air, and I wondered if it was merely my imagination at work that was making me so nervous.

A soft light penetrated the darkness up ahead, and as we approached it, Gimli gave a cry. Rushing toward it, he did not heed Gandalf's barked warning as he pushed through the rotting door.

Following quickly, we looked into the chamber, seeing Gimli kneeling by a tomb and sobbing to himself. The dust was thicker here, and corpses and curling papers littered the floor. Glancing upward, I noted that the light came from a crevasse in the rock, climbing upward as far as my eyes could see. I would later understand this to be called the Chamber of Mazarbul.

"'_Here lies Balin, son of Fudin, Lord of Moria_,' He is dead, then," Gandalf murmured as I walked beside Aragorn. "It's as I had feared,"

He sighed, bending down and picking up a worn book from a corpse's skeletal hands. Blowing the dust off, he opened it carefully, turning the stained pages slowly. I shifted uncomfortably. We didn't have time for this; we needed to find a way out! The unease pressed in heavily, but I did my best to control it.

"We must move on, we cannot linger," Legolas whispered to Aragorn. I relaxed slightly, glad that it was not only I who worried.

"'_They have taken the Bridge, and the second hall_,'" Gandalf intoned as he began to read from the book. "'_We have barred the gate, but cannot hold them for long…_'" As he continued our surroundings became more eerie and my anxiety elevated. "'_The ground shakes...drums in the deep. We cannot get out. A shadow moves in the dark. We cannot get out. They are coming_,'"

Suddenly, there was a crashing sound, creating massive echoes as it fell. Whirling around, I saw Pippin jerk away as a skull that sat upon a body fell down a well nearby. Springing forward, I watched as the body toppled after its skull, a chain falling down after it. I caught the bucket attached to the chain before it followed after, but it no longer mattered. There were a series of large crashes as the body fell through the caverns, ending in...

Silence.

All I could hear was my own heart beating, pounding a thundering staccato in my ears.

Gandalf put down the book on a table. "Fool of a Took!" He hissed angrily when no battle cries emitted from the deeps of Moria. "Throw yourself in next time and rid us of your stupidity!"

He took one step forward, and then one quiet drum sounded. Gandalf froze, as did everyone else. More drums sounded, louder and louder as they went on. My heart stopped when I heard the distinct cries of Orcs. The Fellowship glanced around, their disquiet palpable.

"Orcs!" Legolas yelled, confirming our collective fear.

Everything happened at once after that.

"Get back! Stay close to Gandalf," Aragorn ordered the Hobbits, pushing them behind him. Rushing forward, I followed Boromir toward the door. When he reached it, he looked out to assess the danger. A sensation of acute peril passed over me, and before I could even think, I acted. Grabbing the back of his tunic, I pulled hard, forcing him away from the hole in the door. Three arrows sunk into the area where his head had been, and he gave me a wide-eyed look before working with Aragorn and me to close the doors.

"They have a cave troll," he told me dryly, but I did not even give it much thought. Cave troll or no cave troll, we would be severely outnumbered.

Scrambling around, Aragorn, Legolas, Boromir, Ehlon, and I began to pick up weapons and pieces of wood laying on the floor to barricade the door. I knew it would not hold long, but at least it would allow for us to ready ourselves for battle. Stepping back quickly, we all drew our weapons. I rolled my neck to the side, pushed back my shoulders a couple of times, fighting against the prickling fear that danced over my skin. I took a deep breath, whirling my sword in a small arc.

Gimli raised his axe, a wild expression on his weathered face. "Let them come!" he yelled angrily, "There is one Dwarf yet in Moria who still draws breath!"

I watched as Legolas and Ehlon simultaneously notched an arrow on their bow, and I felt thwarted that I did not still have my own. The shrieks, cries, and pounding of heavy footsteps came nearer and nearer until the door began to pulse as bodies threw themselves against it.

A hole appeared, and Legolas and Ehlon aimed and shot, making Orc after Orc shriek as they were impaled. Although I knew the door would not hold for long, when it suddenly burst open, I was still shocked as Orcs rushed toward us. Within seconds, the sounds of battle were in the air as they descended on the Fellowship.

Swinging and slicing, I took the Orcs that came at me quickly, forgetting my debilitating fear. In battles such as these, fear has no place: it is all one moment, one movement, one chance to escape a violent death. Watching the movement of their swords, I ducked easily and held them back, gutting them. A sea of Orcs surrounded me, and I focused on nothing and everything at once, moving fluidly from one to another, relying on my warrior senses to catch on to danger.

I collided with Sam when I was pushed toward one of the crumbling columns. He gave me a wide-eyed look as an Orc charged toward us, shouting out a warning. I was about to bring up my sword to deflect the Orc's blade, when, in a flash, the Hobbit hit the creature in the forehead with a cooking pan. The Orc fell like a stone to the ground, and I gave Sam a surprised look before being drawn back into the battle. We fought side by side few a while, Sam switching between using his short sword to dropping Orcs with the pan. It was a very unorthodox fighting style, but it was working quite well. He would incapacitate the oncoming Orcs and I would reach forward to gut them, moving from one to another fluidly until I was pushed away from the Hobbit by the surging army.

A roar came from beyond the door, drawing my attention. The walls around the doorway crumbled and crashed to the ground as the cave troll broke through. I looked up, my eyes widening as I took in its roaring and growling form as it held its deadly metal hammer high. It was likely fifteen feet tall and a pale brown colour, its beady eyes glinting a strange yellow. Turning back to the Orc in front of me, I had to sidestep a wild jab before burying my sword in its heart. Looking back at the troll, I saw Sam standing in front of it, visibly trembling as the creature began to swing his hammer at the Hobbit. Surging forward, I watched as Sam flung himself under the creature as it brought down its hammer. It appeared comically surprised when the Hobbit was no longer there, and it looked around desperately to find where Sam had disappeared to.

I lodged my sword into its thigh, and it roared and swung at me with all its strength. Rolling out of the hammer's path, I sliced at its knees. It howled, the abominable sound piercing my ears. Sam attacked it from behind, jabbing at the back of the creature's knees, giving me an opportunity to jump forward. With all my strength, I pushed upward, feeling my sword bury into the troll's stomach. Pulling back quickly, I heard it roar in pain and anger as it swung its hammer at me. Throwing myself out of the way, I landed against the wall. All at once, I realized I was stuck. Staring up at the troll, I saw its hammer come down at me in slow motion. I froze.

There were cries from my left, and suddenly an arrow pierced the creature's eye, making it drop its hammer as it held both hands to its eyes. Aragorn and Boromir fought it together, drawing its attention away from me. Pushing away from the wall, I rescued Merry from two Orcs, taking them by surprise. Backing away from a particularly large Orc, I bumped into Ehlon, who fired an arrow at the Orc's mouth, giving me time to cut off its arms.

I was drawn away again by three large Orcs who were viciously attacking Merry and Pippin. I charged the back of the tallest one, knocking it down to the floor and cutting it through. The other Orcs weren't pleased by this development, and turned their attention to me. Before I could move, two stones sailed through the air and hit the Orcs singly on the head. They jerked backward, giving me time to plan an attack. In the next moment, both Orcs were no longer a danger to the Hobbits, and I turned to them, watching them briefly as they fought with swords and stones against a tall Orc. Gimli joined them a moment later, swinging his axe heavily at the Orcs with a low roar.

"Frodo!" I heard Aragorn yell from across the room, and I stabbed my last Orc before running toward his voice. Cutting through the Orcs, which were beginning to thin, I saw that the cave troll was chasing Frodo around a column, dumbly trying to catch him.

"Aragorn! Amira!" he yelled as the troll snatched his ankle, dragging him around by his foot. Running forward, I watched as Aragorn threw a spear masterfully at the troll's side, burying it deeply into its green tinged flesh. Screaming in pain, the creature's arm swept Aragorn into the air, where he crashed against the wall. Dropping to the ground, he fell onto his back, unmoving.

"Aragorn!" I cried in fear, my heart in my throat. I approached the troll just as he turned on Frodo, who was trying to scramble away. Digging Aragorn's spear out of its side, the troll threw it at the Hobbit, who fell in a heap to the dusty ground.

"_No!_" I yelled, feeling an uncanny anger surge inside of me. Snorting in victory, the troll turned to me just as I threw my weight behind a blow that widened the spear wound in its side. It howled in pain as blood splattered across my front, some landing on my face. My anger, shock, revulsion and desperation melded into one, and suddenly I was attacking the troll as though my life depended on it.

Merry and Pippin jumped onto the troll's back, swiping and stabbing at it bravely while it attempted to sweep me out of the way with its arm like it had Aragorn. It brought up its hand, bringing it down as though to swat me like a troublesome insect.

"Amira!" I heard Ehlon yell distantly, but I held my ground, the troll's hand too close now to move. The troll impaled itself on my sword, shrieking in pain, but it continued its descent through to me, throwing me across the floor where I skidded against the wall. Feeling blood in my mouth, I stood waveringly, barely escaping being gutted by an oncoming Orc. I fell down again, the room spinning around me. I noted vaguely that I had dropped my sword. The Orc charged, and I dove between its legs. I heard it hiss in frustration as it ran directly into the wall. I rolled over quickly, feeling something cool brush my fingers. Looking down in desperation, I saw that it was my fallen sword. Gripping it instantly, I lifted my head and watched the Orc's blade come down. My heart in my throat, I pushed myself to the side, hearing the Orc's heavy sword ring loudly on the stone floor.

Ehlon appeared suddenly, blocking a blow that would have stabbed me in the heart. She gutted the Orc, and then another, before turning to me.

"Are you hurt?" she asked, looking me over anxiously.

I shook my head, and then in a flash of precognition I pulled her down on the ground with me, seeing the blade seconds before it would have decapitated her. On my knees, I deflected a large Orc's blow while in my peripheral, I saw Ehlon furiously battling another. The troll roared from across the room, and our attention was drawn momentarily in its direction. The Orc's blade cut into my hand as our swords met hilt to hilt, and I felt its vile breath in my face as we struggled. Twisting sharply, I threw its sword away, putting all of my strength into my last swing. With a sickening thump, the Orc's head flew onto the ground, its body falling forward in front of me soon after. I felt like vomiting, suddenly hating myself, hating that any of this was necessary. I staggered backward from the force of my own swing, glancing to the side just as Ehlon's Orc rushed toward her.

Grabbing the dagger on my thigh, I threw it at the Orc, watching it sink surprisingly close to my intended mark: its neck. It roared, but continued its way toward Ehlon, practically diving forward. She sidestepped it, but her lips parted suddenly in a soundless cry of pain. I reached her then, but she pushed her sword into its body, gutting it before I had the chance to do so myself.

"Ehlon..." I murmured, clutching her shoulders. She was breathing hard, and when I looked down, there was blood on her side. My eyes widened, and I brushed my fingers over the spot.

"That's not my blood," she said, her voice unsteady. I frowned, for I did not believe her for a minute. Her grey eyes were desperate, asking wordlessly for something I did not understand. "You need not worry."

Suddenly, the sounds of battle behind us disappeared, and when I turned, not one Orc remained that did not lie dead upon the dusty floor. The silence was eerie, and the sight of the dead even more so.

"Come," she said as I was retrieving my dagger, leading me to where the others had gathered. Aragorn stood over Frodo, and I smiled, relieved to see him alive. But my relief was short lived when I saw the Ringbearer's condition. Fluidly, I knelt beside him across from Aragorn.

"No," he whispered, turning Frodo over slowly. To my sheer amazement, the Hobbit jerked and groaned, coughing as he sat up.

"He's alive!" Sam exclaimed, and I blinked my eyes to be sure it wasn't my imagination. I touched his forehead to be sure he did not have a fever, but his skin felt completely normal.

"I'm fine. I'm not hurt," Frodo assured us breathlessly, and Aragorn shook his head in disbelief.

"You should be dead," Ehlon murmured, and I nodded.

"That spear would have skewered a wild boar!" Aragorn exclaimed, and Frodo smiled up at me as I took his hand and squeezed it.

"I think there's more to this Hobbit than meets the eye," Gandalf mused, and Frodo peeled back his shirt to reveal the tunic of mithril hidden beneath it. My eyes widened, and then I laughed at the same time Gimli did.

"Mithril!" The Dwarf grinned, "You are full of surprises, Master Baggins."

I relaxed briefly, but moments later, more drums and Orc cries reverberated within the hall, a reminder that the danger had not yet passed. One battle had been won, but the fight for our lives still went on.

"To the bridge of Khazad-dum!" Gandalf shouted, and in a blur of movements, we were all running. Away from the tomb of Balin we sprinted, and into the darkness of the columns we returned. I could hear the foul voices of the Orcs as they followed behind us, and the sound of their clinking armour.

"This way!" My mentor cried over his shoulder, splitting off to one side.

And then there was no way out. Shuffling and stumbling to a stop, we all whirled around to find another escape, but we were surrounded on all sides by Orcs. The Fellowship drew close together in a tight circle, back to back as we faced our screeching foes, their smiles evil as they made jeers at us in their loathsome tongue. We stood our ground, all of our weapons drawn, but the Orcs continued to chant and draw out the inevitable.

I cannot begin to explain the consuming fear I felt, for it was in that moment when it all caught up with me...

Right here, in the deep darkness of Moria, I could die.

And would die.

But then a loud, deep roar rumbled through the halls. To my sheer amazement, the Orcs went silent, glancing around them fearfully. Shrieking suddenly, they began to dissipate, scrambling backward, sideways, and in any other direction away from us. Gimli threw his head back, roaring with laughter as though he alone had caused this unbelievable event.

An unsettling darkness seeped into my bones, cold like the howling winds of Caradhras: something evil was drawing close, something far worse than a thousand Orcs. A glowing light appeared at the other end of the hall behind us, red like the glare of a fire.

"What is this new devilry?" Boromir hissed, echoing all of our thoughts.

"A Balrog," Gandalf said, with a tone of dread in his voice that I'd never heard before. "A demon of the ancient world!" He turned to us suddenly. "This foe is beyond any of you...Run!"

And we ran once more, the sensation in my bones only increasing in intensity as the seconds rushed by. We reached the end of the column-filled hall, revealing a chasm filled with a maze of roughhewn stairs. Down and down we went, Boromir and Legolas nearly falling into the abyss below when there was an unexpected break in the stairway. Bits of stone fell behind us as we rose up another stairway, treads crumbling beneath our feet and giving way as though they individually wished our ruin.

Gandalf stopped abruptly, pressing himself against the wall to let Aragorn by. "Lead them on Aragorn! The bridge is near." When Aragorn resisted, the wizard pushed him away. "Do as I say! Swords are of no use here!"

Moving past him, I gave Gandalf a confused glance as I forced myself into a sprint. My mentor did not meet my eyes, only allowing the others to pass him by, bringing up the rear instead. Suddenly, though, there was a break in the stairs, and Aragorn stopped so suddenly I bumped into him. Legolas pushed past me, jumping the eight foot span to the other side of the stairs with graceful Elven ease. Aragorn turned to me, and I took a deep breath, my stomach churning at the sight of the abyss waiting below if I miscalculated the distance. Bracing myself, I made a running jump, my heart leaping into my throat as I sailed slowly across toward Legolas. For one terrible moment I thought I had jumped short, but in the next second, I crashed into the Prince's arms. He caught and steadied me quickly when I swayed.

"Thank-you," I murmured, and he just smiled faintly before turning toward Aragorn's shout. Merry was tossed over the gap, and then Pippin. I hustled them behind me as an arrow whizzed by my ear. My eyes snapped to the opposite shelf of rock, where a dozen Orcs were preparing to take aim at us from above. I cursed my lack of bow once again as I pulled the Hobbits down into a crouch with me as three arrows sailed above our heads.

"No one tosses a Dwarf!" I heard Gimli yell indignantly, and then Aragorn tossed him over to the other side of the stairs. "Not the beard!" Gimli howled as Legolas made a grab for the Dwarf's beard as he teetered dangerously close to the edge of the broken stair.

Boromir jumped the gap easily, as did Ehlon, who winced when she landed against Legolas's side.

"Gandalf!" Legolas called, and the wizard leaped across quickly, an arrow piercing the top of his hat and passing straight through. At another moment this might have struck me as amusing, but there was no time for any other thought than dodging arrows and ensuring the safety of the Hobbits. At any moment I expected to feel that familiar piercing pain of an arrow...

Sam was tossed, and then Aragorn and Frodo prepared to jump as well. A section of stair from above fell onto the one they stood on, breaking their platform so that a mere five feet remained. Aragorn grabbed Frodo, holding him close as a rock fell from the ceiling, crashing against the foundation of the stair, knocking it loose. There was a heart wrenching crack, and the stair began to fall backward away from the Fellowship.

"Hold on! Lean forward!" Aragorn yelled, and the wobbling platform reversed, falling slowly until it smashed against the section of stair we were standing on. Leaping forward, Aragorn and Frodo fell into Ehlon, who caught the Ringbearer easily. Off balance, the lady Ranger began to fall toward the abyss as the stairs began to crumble again.

Catching her by the arm, Gandalf drew her upright, pushing her forward as we began running again. "Over the bridge! Fly!" he cried, and then he halted at the centre of the bridge, looking behind him where the fiery light was growing and earth shuddering roars could be heard.

The Fellowship slowed to a stop as well, turning the other way as the Balrog came into view. I would never forget the image for as long as I lived. Spouting flames and wreathed in Shadow, the creature reached half way to the great ceiling of the mines, so tall was he! The Balrog roared, opening its mouth and allowed fiery breath to wash over us in a wave of unbearable heat. It stepped forward toward Gandalf until the creature was a mere fifty feet away, its flames so scorching and bright that I could barely look at him. My eyes watered from the heat.

"You cannot pass!" Gandalf cried. The creature roared, sending flames out toward us, licking at the air several feet above our heads. The Orcs ceased their fire, scuttling away from their rock shelf and into the darkness like little black beetles.

"Gandalf!" I heard Frodo yell frantically, but my mentor paid him no mind.

"I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Arnor," Gandalf raised his staff, light pulsing around him as the Balrog suddenly drew his arm back, wielding a sword. "The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udun!" The creature brought its sword down upon Gandalf, but Gandalf's orb of light held against the attack. He struck again, this time connecting with Glamdring. The Balrog's fiery sword shattered instantly.

"Go back to the Shadow!" Gandalf ordered, but the great creature snorted in anger and stepped forward, now holding a fiery whip.

"_YOU SHALL NOT PASS!_" Gandalf boomed, and then brought his staff down upon the bridge.

At first nothing happened except a faint cracking and crumbling noise from below. The Balrog threw its head back, roaring and snorting, and then it advanced toward the wizard. My heart crashed in my ears. I started to move forward to Gandalf, but Aragorn held me back, recognizing a moment before I that nothing would change whatever plans my mentor had in mind.

Stepping forward onto the bridge to attack, the Balrog roared when its weight caused the stone to crumble beneath its fiery feet. Down it went into the abyss, its whip trailing above it as it fell. I relaxed as Gandalf sighed, watching its descent for a moment before turning on his heel toward us.

And then it happened, oh so slow and terrible that I would never forget...

The trailing whip flung itself around Gandalf's ankle, dragging him down harshly. His hands gripped at the rock, desperate for a hold. For a moment, his fingers dug into a crack in the bridge, and without thinking I pushed away from Aragorn, rushing toward Gandalf. I was a mere arm's length away from his quaking hand when he looked up.

"Fly, you fools!" he called hoarsely, and then he was gone, my fingers closing around nothing but air. I stumbled, falling to my knees as I felt the bridge begin to stir beneath me again. My lungs collapsed in upon themselves, and I couldn't breathe as my heart seemed to stop.

"_No! _Gandalf!" I heard Frodo scream from behind me distantly, as though coming from underwater. An arrow passed dangerously close to my head, but still I couldn't bring myself to move, my eyes transfixed by the fading light of the Balrog as it descended into the never ending abyss. It was though time had ground to a halt.

Hands grabbed my arms, wrenching me backward. With tears hot in my eyes, I found myself running alongside the others. Everything blurred together until suddenly we were outside, gasping for breath in the brilliant sunshine. I stood, completely numb, my heart heavy with pain as my eyes adjusted to the daylight outside the mines. Blinking back my tears, I gazed at the rest of the Fellowship, whose faces wore a similar mixed expression of shock, disbelief, and sadness.

It was Sam, Merry, and Pippin who broke down first, collapsing onto the ground as tears overtook them. I felt like doing the same myself, but I knew we did not have time for grief now.

Frodo was walking away from the group, going to sit alone on a boulder facing the view to the East. Ehlon followed him, crouching next to the Ringbearer. I turned to the other Hobbits, laying a hand on each of their shoulders and murmuring reassuring words, although the grief I felt in my heart bordered on unbearable.

"Gandalf, Gandalf!" Aragorn lamented softly from behind, "Did I not say to you: 'if you pass through the doors of Moria, beware!'"

And then he spoke to the others. "Get them up," I heard him order gruffly.

"Give them a moment for pity's sake!" Boromir demanded, his anger and sorrow evident. I realized belatedly that it was he who had dragged me out of my trance and into our run to the outside of the mines.

"By nightfall these hills will be swarming with Orcs!" Aragorn hissed, and then he sighed. "We must reach the Woods of Lothlórien. Come Boromir, Legolas, Gimli, get them up."

I glanced toward Ehlon and Frodo, watching as the lady Ranger offered the Ringbearer comfort as he wept. Swallowing back the lump in my throat, I pushed away my crushing grief and helped the Hobbits up alongside Gimli, Legolas, and Boromir. Walking to the two along on the bluff, I touched Frodo's trembling shoulder.

"We must move on," I whispered sadly, and Ehlon looked up at me. She nodded, beginning to stand but to my horror, she stumbled, falling to her knee. Sagging forward against Frodo, I saw her lips part in silent pain as her eyes closed. I felt my heart clench in sickening dread. Moving quickly, I pushed Frodo out of the way gently, leaning her against me.

"_Ah!_" she breathed out by my neck, and I helped her lie fully on the grass nearby.

"No..." I murmured, my eyes finding the growing blood stain at her side.

"Frodo?" Aragorn called, and I looked up. His eyes widened. "Ehlon!"

"Save her!" Frodo begged, clawing at the ground beside her. Her body was shaking terribly, and her eyes remained closed. Aragorn fell onto his hands and knees next to me, watching as my own trembling fingers moved to loosen her sword belt. In a flash, her hand clasped around my wrist, her eyes flying open and staring intently into mine. The grey in hers was clouded in pain.

"_Im maer. Ta naa unat'_," 'I am fine. It is nothing,' She gasped out, dropping my hand.

"Baw, ta naa u," 'No, it is not,' Aragorn practically growled out, and I laid my hand over her forehead, watching her eyes slip closed again. I leaned over her, transferring as much energy as I could afford. I felt her taut, shaking body relax slightly.

"_Im innas naa awra… le innas auta en_," 'Go on without me. I will slow the pace,' she whispered.

"_Naa, Ehlon, um ta innas auta en_." 'No, Ehlon, we would never leave you." I whispered back.

Boromir appeared, his expression horrified. "She had blood on her side in the tomb, but she told me it was not her own." My head snapped up to look at him. So he had seen the same as I! My heart fell.

"Ehlon," I whispered into her ear, "Please keep your eyes open. Hold onto Aragorn's hand. Whatever you do, keep your eyes open." Her eyelids fluttered open at my command, and Aragorn clasped her hand tightly. I glanced at Gimli, Legolas, Boromir, and the Hobbits that had gathered around, feeling anger surge up inside me.

"Move back!" I said tersely, and Aragorn nodded. The rest of the Fellowship melted away, and I worked quickly. When her sword belt had been removed, I peeled back her tunic, biting back a gasp at the bloody mess that was her side.

"No..." I found myself whispering, shaking my head. Ehlon's breathing shifted suddenly, sounding harsh in her throat. "Frodo, go with the others." His eyes widened, but he did what he was told, though slowly. "Get some water," I ordered tensely to Aragorn, who went into action immediately. When he returned, I cleaned her wound the best I could, noting the blackness that was laced in with her blood: _she had been poisoned._

My heart fell even further.

"Poison," Aragorn murmured, echoing my thoughts. Ehlon jerked, gasping in pain when I placed my hand over her wound. I closed my eyes tightly, focusing on putting every drop of energy I could into the transfer. I felt the skin close beneath my fingers and palm, and her body went slack, every muscle relaxing at the force of my will. I opened my eyes briefly to find hers staring up at mine.

"Thank...you," she whispered falteringly, her eyes fluttering closed.

"Ehlon!" I cried softly, placing my hands on either side of her face.

But I was too late. I knew she had fallen into the Darkness, and I hung my head in sorrow. Aragorn pulled me into a half embrace.

"You have done what you can," he murmured. "We must reach the woods of Lothlórien. There is still a chance that she may live." He pulled back, and I felt one lone tear slide down my cheek. I wiped it away furiously, looking down upon the surprisingly peaceful looking body of Ehlon.

Moving forward, Aragorn gently lifted her into his arms, nodding to me. Standing rigidly, I noted with detachment that my hand was bleeding. I realized I had been wounded by that Orc in the tomb, although the pain had not been noticeable until now. I wiped off some blood carelessly. It was shallow. My heart was far too constricted to consider something such as my superficial wound...

I had thought the run for our lives had been over, but as the Fellowship turned their sorrowful gait into a harsh run, I knew that our quest had been renewed. Ehlon's life lay in the haste of our footsteps, in the beating of our aching hearts.

* * *

**As promised, this is the longest chapter so far...And yes, I realize fully that this is a cliff-hanger, and because I despise cliff-hangers as much as the next person, I will be uploading Chapter 10 as soon as I can. :) Will Ehlon live or die? Only time will tell...The land of Lorien is near!**

**Please review and comment, as it makes me grin like a fool. **


	10. Sorrow and the Run to Lórien

**Chapter Ten – Sorrow and the Run to Lórien**

On and on we ran, the silence nearly unbearable as the days melted into a timeless space. The rest of the Fellowship followed behind Aragorn and I, but further back, their faces grim and sorrowful. The wound of Gandalf's death was still raw and terrible, and then, as Ehlon's face grew paler and wan, our hearts sank even more. The inevitable fate of losing her seemed to lower its weight over us with more heaviness in the proceeding days, and Middle Earth itself seemed to mourn her coming death. The sky painted itself in dark greys and blacks to hide the radiant sun from our eyes, to hide the light of hope from our souls.

The Hobbits were particularly stricken by the immobile form in Aragorn's arms.

"Is Ehlon going to be alright?" Pippin whispered lowly, and I couldn't answer past the lump in my throat.

"Ehlon is one of the strongest women I have known." Legolas answered quietly, and the Dwarf nodded.

"Aye," Gimli agreed. "The lass is strong."

"That does not answer the question," Merry bit out, surprising me by his intensity.

"I believe she will make it," Boromir spoke up softly, his face as solemn as I reckoned mine was. "Do I know she will? I do not."

"If we reach the forests of Lothlórien soon, there is a higher chance that she will be saved," I said, my voice sounding hopeless even to me. I swallowed carefully. "There is still hope," I went on, not sure if I was speaking the truth or not.

"Is she going to die?" Frodo asked suddenly, staring ahead into space as he ran.

There was a long silence until Sam put a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"No, Mr. Frodo, she won't," he assured the Ringbearer.

Quickening my strides, I ran ahead of the group by Aragorn. I watched Ehlon's ragged breathing and her pallid face, covered in a thin sheen of sweat as she fought the pain. Legolas appeared at my side, gazing down at the lady Ranger sadly.

"Re innas uma ta, mellon-nin… Re naa thalion," 'She will make it, my friend… She is strong,' he murmured softly, trying his best to comfort me. I nodded, silently thanking him for his reassurance as I stared directly ahead, focusing only on the forest in front of us.

* * *

Minutes later, the Fellowship had entered the forests of Lothlórien. The incredible silence surrounded us entirely, swallowing up the sounds of our rushed footsteps. Aragorn slowed his pace, and I glanced at him questioningly.

But then I knew.

Gasping slightly, I noticed that Ehlon's face was contorted in pain at his hasty movements, and as he reduced his stride she relaxed slightly. He halted for a moment and I touched her forehead: much too warm. I sighed, knowing she was fighting a fever as well as the poison threatening to take over her weak body. Closing my eyes, I transferred what energy I could, reaching deeply inside myself for reserves of strength. When I opened my eyes again, some colour had returned to her face and her breathing was not so shallow. I felt Aragorn's gaze on me, but I couldn't bring myself to look at him.

I could not save her. I could not spare her of the harrowing pain.

A hand landed on my shoulder, startling me slightly. It was Gimli.

"Stop," he said gruffly, and I shook my head wearily. "You've done what you can, now stop blaming yourself!" When I met his eyes, they were alive with a burning fire. I nodded, and he straightened, giving me a significant look before turning his eyes back to the path in front of us. He stayed close by after that.

"Stay close, young Hobbits," Boromir was whispering harshly when I rejoined the Fellowship ahead of me. "They say a sorceress lives in these woods, an Elf-Witch of terrible power! All who look upon her fall under her spell… and are never seen again!"

I felt a strange, although not dangerous, sensation wash over me. However, when I glanced around quickly, there was nothing but trees in my sight. I frowned, feeling the foreign magic touch me again.

"Well, here's one Dwarf she won't ensnare so easily," Gimli said confidently. "I have the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox!"

Suddenly, we were surrounded: tall Elves, perhaps ten in all, clothed in light grey held bows notched with silver arrows on all sides. Legolas prepared an arrow on his bow, but he was facing three arrow points directly in front of him. Gimli's face had drained of colour, and he hefted his axe, ready to swing at any moment. I sighed, not even bothering to draw my sword since there was little point in doing so.

If the Elven archers were prepared to end our lives, then there would be nothing we could do to stop them with our small numbers.

One of the tallest of the Elves, seemingly the leader, walked forward to Aragorn. An amused smile on his face caused me to immediately relax.

"You breathe so loud, they could shoot you in the dark," he said in the Common Language, and Gimli ground his teeth from my peripheral while Sam clapped a hand over his mouth. Aragorn frowned, shifting Ehlon's weight in his arms.

_ "Mae govannen, Legolas Thranduilion_." 'Welcome Legolas, son of Thranduil.' The tall Elf greeted Legolas with a small bow.

"_Mae govannen, Haldir o Lórien."_ 'Greetings, Haldir of Lórien.' Legolas replied, bowing in return. My eyes widened slightly, since I found it interesting that the Prince knew the leader of the Elven warriors.

Haldir glanced at Aragorn. "_A, Aragorn in Dúnedain istannen le ammen_." 'Ah, Aragorn of the Dúnedain, you are known to us.'

"_Haldir o Lórien, um thell ta naa imir. Um he'o ta isar. Am i'mell fallar innas auta en, le innas quell ta 'imo. Amo._" 'Haldir of Lórien, we need your protection. We have come here for your help. One of our company has fallen ill to poison; she will not survive the night without the Elves help. Please,' Aragorn said, and the tall leader frowned, glancing at the lady Ranger in his arms.

"Aragorn! These woods are perilous. We should go back," Boromir yelled jerkily, his eyes flickering to each of the Elves that surrounded him.

"Aye," Gimli agreed, gripping his axe tightly.

"You have entered the realm of the Lady of the Wood. You cannot go back," Haldir pointed out calmly in the Common Language, addressing Gimli in particular.

_ "Boe ammen veriad lîn. Andelu i ven!" '_We need your protection. The road is fell!' Aragorn said, his tone despairing.

"So much for the legendary courtesy of the Elves! Speak words we also can understand." Gimli grumbled loudly, casting glares at the Elves around him.

"We have not had dealings with Dwarves since the Dark Days," stated Haldir in the Common Language, turning to the Dwarf. Suddenly, the dislike running between the races was unmistakable.

"Do you know what this Dwarf has to say to that, Master Elf? _Ishkhaqwi ai durugnul!"_ Gimli spat, his face flushed with anger.

"That was not so courteous," said Aragorn harshly, shooting a dark look at the Dwarf. He had spoken them too quickly for me to understand, and although I knew a few Dwarfish words, judging by Aragorn's reaction it was better for me to remain ignorant to the meaning.

Haldir glanced at Frodo briefly. "You bring great evil with you." And then he sighed, moving his gaze from the Ringbearer to Ehlon. "_Enu, ne asath_." 'Come, she is waiting,' Nodding to his warriors, they all fell back, lowering their bows and replacing their grim expressions with ones of welcome.

I relaxed even further, as did everyone else with the exception of Boromir, who looked around fearfully as though he expected a dragon to jump out from behind a tree at any moment. I glanced at Frodo, who stared at the beauty of the forest around him with awe. He caught my eye, and I smiled reassuringly.

We passed through the thick of the forest, stopping before a grassy hill that led to the continuation of the forest. Haldir turned to the Fellowship, his expression serious.

"I must ask that each of you of non-Elven kind be blind folded, as is the custom for foreigners here, especially in such times of Darkness," he spoke in the Common Language, and Gimli started. Stepping forward, he craned his neck to meet the tall Elf's eyes.

"I will have none of that!" he protested indignantly, "If I will be blind folded, he-" here, he pointed with his axe to Legolas, "-should have his eyes covered as well."

Haldir sighed good-naturedly. "Then that is how it shall be. Legolas..." He turned to the Prince, who shook his head as we were all handed white blind folds. I carefully tied mine around my head, settling it over my eyes so that I could see nothing. Hands gently checked to be sure I had tied the material tightly, and then they retracted.

"Good," one of them said. "We shall carry your burden." There was a rustling sound, and I guessed that Ehlon was being carried by one of Haldir's Elves.

"Now blind, we will go," Haldir commented cheerfully, and we began our ascent up the grassy hill, bumping, stumbling, staggering, and falling as we went along. If our situation hadn't been so solemn and painful, I imagine one might have laughed at the sight of us coming up the hill. Cresting it, I was met with the intoxicating smell of the Malorn trees once more, and I knew we were walking among giants again.

I do not know how long we had walked, but it seemed a short time, for not too long after our blindfolds were being removed. Rubbing my eyes, I allowed them to adjust, nearly gasping at the beauty of Lothlórien. All of the lofty tales, books, and descriptions could not compare to what I saw before me. Built into the side of a small mountain, the city itself was cloaked in the dark green of the forest, towers and roofs jutting out in various places. Roads and pathways led everywhere, and as we continued up the hill, I saw Elves glancing with unhidden curiosity on their faces. Some began to sing, and when I passed by, I smiled at them, a silent thank-you for their angelic voices. They smiled back freely, whispering among each other.

We reached the peak of the hill, which had sloped into a mountain, where an imperial tree knifed upward, seemingly to pierce the very sky itself. The Elf holding Ehlon disappeared toward the House of Healing, but Haldir bade us forward to the tree, where graceful steps led in a spiral toward a waiting platform built above. We climbed slowly, sadly, but aware of the stunning beauty that surrounded us. Mounting the platform where it laid half way up the tree, I saw that the entire hillside and valley could be viewed from this magical perch. Later, I would understand this to be called Caras Galadhon.

"The Lord and Lady of the Wood await you," the tall Elf said, and no sooner had he spoken, a blinding presence emerged from the far end of the platform. Walking toward us, robed in white and grey, were they, the rulers of Lothlórien: Lord Celeborn, and Lady Galadriel.

"Ten there are, yet eleven there were set out from Rivendell," Lord Celeborn murmured, his wise face solemn. "Within our House of Healing now rests Ehlon of the Dunedain, but tell me, where is Gandalf, for I much desire to speak with him."

Before any of us could answer, Lady Galadriel spoke slowly. "Gandalf the Grey did not pass the borders of this land… he has fallen into Shadow," Startled by her words, I met her intensely cerulean eyes, drawn irrevocably into them. That same magic that I had felt before in the forest touched me again, but more keenly than ever.

Her voice rang out in my mind. _"It is as I feared...Fate has been unkind to thee, Amira of the Dunedain. But you are strong, far stronger than you believe."_

"He was taken by both shadow and flame," Legolas began, drawing Lady Galadriel's gaze. "A Balrog of Morgoth. For we were led needlessly into the net of Moria,"

"Needless were none of the deeds of Gandalf in life. We do not know yet his full purpose," Lady Galadriel said cryptically, looking over the Fellowship.

"What now becomes of this Fellowship? Without Gandalf, hope is lost." Lord Celeborn murmured, voicing all of our fears.

A short silence fell.

"The Quest stands upon the edge of a knife," Lady Galadriel said softly. "Stray but a little and it will fail, to the ruin of all…" She looked straight at Boromir, and a moment later his body began to quake. He quickly tore his eyes from hers and she looked away, smiling slightly at Sam who stood next to him. "Yet hope remains while the company is true." She turned her gaze to the sky briefly, before meeting my eyes again. "Do not let your hearts be troubled. Go now and rest for you are weary with sorrow and much toil. Tonight you will sleep in peace…"

The Fellowship nodded slowly, and my shoulders slumped as I felt my weariness more fully than before.

"You may remain our guests for as long as you wish, no matter how long it takes the Lady Ehlon of the Dunedain to heal, or how long you simply wish to stay within the Lothlórien woods. You are welcome," Lord Celeborn smiled at each of us; his green eyes the colour of cedar boughs.

"We thank you, Lord and Lady, for your graciousness," Aragorn said, bowing, a gesture which each of us followed. "I hope we will not disturb your peace."

Lady Galadriel turned to him, her long, golden hair stirring as she did so. "Peace has already been disturbed, dear Aragorn, but it is you and the Fellowship that gives us hope."

She smiled softly, the radiance of it matching that of the sun. "Let now be the time for rest."

Once we had all bowed deeply to the Lord and Lady, we were escorted out of from the wondrous tree and down into a temporary pavilion that had been assembled for our use on the lawns.

* * *

I was not permitted into the Healing Houses to check on Ehlon by the attending healers, but also by Aragorn especially. He took me aside that afternoon, insisting that I rest in the pavilion while the others were finding their rest elsewhere. Finally admitting to my own weariness, I allowed him to steer me into the small tent, where he berated me for not telling him of the wound on my hand. I merely shrugged, watching him clean and bind it. He then left me to collapse onto the narrow cot that had been prepared. Within seconds, it seemed, I had drifted asleep, only waking when night had just fallen over the land.

Rising, I stepped out of the pavilion, embracing the cool, sweet air outside. I saw figures sitting on the grass nearby, and once my eyes had adjusted to the darkness, I knew them to be the members of the Fellowship, arranged in a semi-circle. I found myself smiling, standing there and watching them converse lowly with each other.

"Ah, there she is!" Gimli hollered, beckoning for me to come closer. Walking quietly, I sat down next to the Dwarf, who seemed much refreshed.

"How do you feel?" asked Frodo quietly, and I sighed.

"Much better," I answered truthfully, catching Aragorn's concerned gaze. I gave him a tiny nod so that he would know I spoke genuinely, and he smiled, recognizing my message.

Suddenly, I heard some Elves voices rise in song, a lone female vocalist coming to the forefront.

_A Olórin i yaresse… (Olórin who once was…)  
Mentaner i Numeherui (Sent by the Lords of the West)  
Tírien i Rómenóri… (To guard the Lands of the East…)_

_Melme nóren sina (Our love for this land)  
núra ala (Is deeper than the deeps)  
Eäro… (Of the sea…)_

"A lament for Gandalf," Legolas stated with a sigh, his eyes on the night sky as he listened pensively to the sad song. It was beautifully sung, but the words pulled at my heart, reopening the grief I had been feeling for the past two days.

"What do they say about him?" Merry asked Legolas slowly, and the Prince shook his head sadly.

"I have not the heart to tell you. For me the grief is still too near," said he.

I swallowed the lump in my throat before quietly translating the verses for the Hobbits and Gimli, who leaned forward with tears shining in their eyes.

…_Maiaron i Oiosaila, (Wisest of all Maiar,)  
Manan elye etevanne (What drove you to leave)  
Nórie i malanelye? (That which you loved?)_

…_Ilfirin nairelma (Yet we will cast all away)  
ullume nucuvalme. (Rather that submit.)  
Nauva i nauva... (What should be shall be...)_

Sam rubbed a hand over his face as the verse came to a close and the voices hummed to themselves. "I bet they don't know about his fireworks. There should be a verse about them."

After a moment, Sam stood up, surprising me when his voice lifted into the air:

"_The finest rockets ever seen,  
They burst in stars of blue and green…_

_Or after thunder...silver showers…_

_Came falling like a...rain of flowers"_

He squatted down again, shaking his head. "Oh, that doesn't do them justice by a long road."

"I thought it was wonderful," I spoke up, my voice wavering, and the rest of the Fellowship muttered their agreement. Sam blushed, wiping away a tear as everyone became silent again.

Scenes of fighting alongside Gandalf in the War of the North returned to me suddenly, his great sword, Glamdring, shining in the sunlight as he swung it at his foes. His kind eyes as he patiently taught me everything he knew of Middle Earth's history, and his strength and calm in times of terror, sadness, and pain. He had taken me from the bodies and broken blades of my fallen parents and raised me as his own, training me in the Ranger ways. The wizard was like an Uncle to me, and with this realization, my heart convulsed even more painfully than before.

The Elves rose in song again, ending the lament after their line of quiet humming.

…_Ú-reniathach (No more will you wander)  
i amar galen (The green fields of this earth)  
I reniad lín ne môr, nuithannen. (Your journey has ended in darkness)_

I felt tears prickle my eyes as I translated the last verse, but I refused to break down in front of the Fellowship. Quickly, I forced them back, doing my best to keep control of my emotions.

Gimli exhaled heavily, breaking the silence after my speech. "A sad song, it was, but lovely."

"Frodo, Sam, Merry, Pippin...I believe you all should leave to rest for the night. It will soon be late," Aragorn suggested upon watching the Hobbits yawn. "Do not let your grief ruin the waiting arms of sleep."

They nodded seriously, their faces still sad and pensive. Slowly, they walked into the pavilion, bidding us a "Good night" before they disappeared into the darkness of the tent.

"Oh, such a sad night is this!" Boromir sighed, looking up at the sky. I watched him wipe away a tear.

"Indeed," said Aragorn sadly, "I could never have predicted such an event."

I felt their eyes on me, and I shook my head, unable to keep the quivering out of my voice. "Gandalf was like an Uncle to me," I began, plucking a piece of grass and dividing it into separate parts. Before I knew it, my story had been lain out in front of them.

"I was discovered as a small child by Gandalf in a Ranger camp that had been ravaged by Orcs," I said, feeling the age-old sorrow inside of me surface momentarily, "I was taken under Gandalf's care, and...he taught me everything I know today. My parents had been killed in the raid, so I have not a family to worry for me, or to mourn my death. Gandalf took it upon himself to raise me and keep me safe..."

After my last words had been spoken, there was some silence.

Finally, it was Aragorn who spoke. "Oh, Amira, I did not know..." he trailed off, and Gimli patted my hand.

"You are a strong lass, like Ehlon," he put in gruffly. My smile was faint, feeling a tear slide down my cheek at his words.

"Middle Earth is the less without him," I said, my voice slightly husky.

"Indeed," Legolas murmured, while Boromir merely shook his head in wonder.

"He taught you to take up a sword..." he commented, disbelief colouring his tone.

"Someone had to," I pointed out.

"Ehlon told me that this is not usual. Is that so?" He persisted, and I sighed. Aragorn shot him a hard look, which Lord Boromir either chose to ignore or did not see in the first place.

"No," I began slowly, "but in times of darkness, there is no hesitation in women bearing arms."

"That is true in other parts of Middle Earth as well," Aragorn added, and I glanced at him, grateful for his support.

"With this said," I went on, "it is still a little unusual and rare for a woman to fight, especially in quests such as this one."

"I am beginning to understand why," Boromir said with a nod, probably recollecting his conversation with Ehlon in the Mines of Moria. "I never knew that women could fight as well as it appears they can."

"Very well, too," Gimli piped up.

Everyone was silent for a bit, listening to the songs of the Elves that had broken in again.

"Middle Earth will be less without Ehlon as well," I said very quietly.

Aragorn stood, stepping in front of me. "She will live, Amira, the Healers are doing all they can."

"Will you not let me see her? I do not believe I will sleep any more tonight," I begged, and his shoulders slumped.

"Yes, I will take you." He held out his hand, helping me up.

"If she wakes, please let me know," Boromir rushed out as we began to walk toward the bridge which led across to the House of Healing. I turned toward him, and his eyes gleamed strangely. I nodded before turning to rejoin Aragorn...

* * *

The House of Healing was eerily quiet and dimly lit, but I couldn't deny that the ornately carved columns and ceilings were lovely. A black haired female Healer met us at the gate and let us to Ehlon's room, which was far down a long hall lit by a few torches. Pushing open the heavy wooden door, I saw her: bathed in the dim candle light on the bed, covered by soft linen.

Aragorn thanked the Healer before settling himself on the nearby chair, watching me as I touched her forehead. I sighed with relief, noting that her temperature wasn't as high as it was before. Her breathing was deep and peaceful, no longer shallow and ragged.

"She rests easy," I commented softly, sitting on the edge of her bed and touching the hand that lay above the sheet.

"Now you see that I spoke true: she will live," Aragorn repeated, and I glanced at him, smiling faintly.

"The Healer said her condition would have been much worse without your healing," he went on, and I drew slow circles on the back of Ehlon's hand. "You very likely saved her life, Amira." I met his eyes again, and saw that there was an intensity in his that shocked me.

I swallowed the lump that settled in my throat once again. "We all did." I pointed out softly.

He sighed, shaking his head.

"Fate has not dealt us a good hand," he said after a moment of silence, "but we have strong characters in our company that will help us battle what comes our way."

I smiled. "My hope and faith lies in the Fellowship," I replied, looking down at Ehlon again.

"As does mine," Aragorn whispered, rubbing his stubbly chin.

We were silent for a while. I glanced up at him, noting his tired eyes and weary stance in the chair.

"You should find rest as well, Aragorn," I suggested, and he sighed, his expression faraway as he shook his head wordlessly. "You have held our fate on your shoulders too long...Sleep."

He inhaled deeply, rising slowly. "You speak wisely. Sleep has evaded me as I have evaded it." Reaching across the bed, he touched my shoulder. "Good night."

"Be peaceful," I returned quietly, and he smiled, moving out of the room and closing the door behind him. Standing, I walked over to Aragorn's wooden chair, drawing it close to the bed as I held Ehlon's hand again. On a whim, I leaned forward, focusing all of my energy on healing her. At first I was met with resistance as the Blackness in the poison battled against the magic flowing through me. And then, it was as though a dam had been opened inside, and I could feel my strength rapidly ebbing away. Her skin warmed beneath my touch.

I slumped forward, unable to support myself. My head resting near her hand, I felt my eyes slip closed without my command as everything went black...

* * *

**So the Fellowship has reached the safe haven of Lorien, but at what cost? And what will come of Amira's growing power? Time will tell, and much will be answered in the next chapter...(which will be uploaded soon)**

**I decided, as you can tell, to include some of Tolkien's beautiful poetic ability into this chapter, and in areas that I deem worthy, I will continue to incorporate some of this original language since I enjoy it so much. :)**

**I'd like to publicly express my gratitude to Ynnealay for supporting and encouraging me through her incredibly purposeful, creative, and thorough reviews. I appreciate these very much.**

**Please do comment and review!**


	11. Morning, the Eye and the Power

**Chapter Eleven – Morning, the Eye and the Power**

When I opened my eyes, I was blinded by the daylight streaming through the window. Something was touching my hair, and when I began to slowly lift my head, fingers dropped away from my tangled strands. My eyes adjusted, and suddenly I was drowning in grey. I blinked: Ehlon had awakened!

"Good morning," she said softly, her hand brushing a tendril of hair behind my ear in a surprisingly tender way.

"You are well!" I whispered, feeling a smile form on my lips, reflecting the one that graced her own.

"Yes, thanks mostly to you, I believe," she responded with a slight accusatory tone.

I shook my head, straightening and feeling my sore neck for the first time. "Ehlon, everyone assisted in saving you: the entire Fellowship, and the Healers here in Lórien."

She took my hand, her expression serious. "I felt your magic last night, Amira...I would not have awoken so refreshed without what you had done."

I sighed, "How do you feel?"

"Wonderful," she answered with a smile, which I couldn't help but return.

"You had us all worried," I admitted, unable to keep from looking at her. Indeed, she looked much refreshed and healthy, and the ache in my heart receded slightly. The colour in her face was encouraging, as was the brightness in her eyes.

"I am sorry to have worried you," Ehlon apologized softly, and then she squeezed my hand. "I feel better than I have even since Rivendell." Slowly, carefully, she pulled herself backward until she was sitting leaning up against the headboard.

I smiled, "Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel have welcomed us to stay here as long as we must."

She raised her eyebrows. "And how long will that be, do you know?"

"We leave as soon as you are healed and ready to travel," I answered, and she swung her legs over the side of the bed.

"Then let us take our leave," she said, and I hastily caught her ankle.

"Ehlon...I said when you are _healed_ we might leave, but until then, we stay."

Releasing her ankle, I watched her sigh as she returned her legs beneath the sheets.

"I feel ready," she muttered, but I had seen her wince slightly as she had retracted her limbs, so I wasn't convinced.

"The Healers will decide," I said, "but until the moment you are completely healthy, I believe we will enjoy the reprieve from the dark lands we have travelled through."

Ehlon nodded, gazing out the window. "Yes," she breathed.

* * *

The Healer arrived not soon after, shooing me away as she gave Ehlon a routine check-up. I sighed as I closed the door, walking down the empty hall flooded with morning light. Walking slowly across the bridge and stopping to admire the golden leaves riding the crystalline water that bubbled below, I crossed onto the opposite shore, peeking into the pavilion. Noting that the Hobbits, Gimli, Legolas, and Boromir still slept, I walked in search for Aragorn, who was nowhere to be seen. In doing so, I had the chance to cross the many bridges, walk the many paths, and stare up the spiral staircases that led to the many houses built into and around the gigantic trees. I passed many Elves along the way, who tilted their heads respectfully as I continued my search.

At a loss, I found myself drawn into a darkened garden, where even the bright daylight had trouble penetrating. Sighing to myself, I stepped lightly on the stone path, watching ahead for Aragorn. I circled the garden twice, and then gave up. If the man did not wish to be found, I would not invade his privacy.

My thoughts turned to the Fellowship once more. What would happen now to the Company now? We had lost our irreplaceable leader, Gandalf, to the Balrog. I felt tears in my eyes again, and I stared up at the sky so that they would not fall. Doing my best to ignore the pain in my heart, I continued my train of thought.

We had very nearly lost Frodo and Aragorn in the Chamber of Mazarbul, and had come close to losing Ehlon as well. So much grief and pain had come from travelling through the Mines of Moria, and now I wondered what direction the Fellowship would take next. I thought about Aragorn, assuming that he would take over Gandalf's lead. I imagined Boromir's indignation at having a Ranger lead him, but I judged that the rest of the Fellowship would do well under Aragorn's control.

Much, it seemed, had gone wrong.

Sitting down on a bench, I allowed myself to rest for the time being. I let my eyes slip closed as I embraced the silence around me.

I suppose I must have fallen asleep, for when I awoke, I was quite disoriented. Standing, I pushed away the fragments of my dreams. They had been very vivid and disturbing: the Eye of Mordor had come to me, its power unbearable and painful even in a dream. I wiped the cold sweat off my forehead, feeling uneasy and fighting to control my shaking fingers.

It had spoken the Black Speech of Mordor, but somehow I had understood. The disembodied voice had asked me my deepest desires, probing into my mind and laughing when I would not answer.

_ I can see you. I can see you weakening. Your power will corrupt you until nothing is left but a scarred shell. You cannot escape! _

The Eye had zoomed toward me then like a fiery bird, and this was when I jolted awake.

I rose quickly, leaving the darkness of the gardens and re-entering the light that filtered through the trees. I couldn't shake the feeling that something, or someone, was watching me. Every time I peered around a corner, there was no one there. Whenever I glanced behind me, nothing but the forest could be seen.

Returning to the pavilion, I saw Boromir sitting alone on his bed roll, seemingly deep in thought. He looked up jerkily when he heard my quiet footsteps.

"My Lady," he greeted me with a nod. "Why are you not at breakfast?"

I narrowed my eyes at him, sensing his tangled emotions. "I could ask the same of you, Boromir."

He sighed, looking down quickly. "You are too perceptive, Amira." I waited for him to elaborate, for I could see him struggling for words. "You see..." he met my eyes, "I am terribly homesick."

I knew better than to believe this was all that had lain in his mind, so I sat down on my own bed roll, facing him. "I think it's more than that."

Boromir blinked rapidly, and then he shook his head.

Aragorn pushed through the tent door, his eyes travelling between the Gondorian and I. He had clearly observed the warrior's expression, for he sighed.

"Take some rest, Boromir, and join the others for breakfast. These borders are well protected," Aragorn told him.

"I will find no rest here," Boromir murmured shakily, causing Aragorn to look at him worriedly. I tensed as well as he continued. "I heard her voice inside my head… She spoke of my father and the fall of Gondor, and she said to me; 'Even now, there is hope left'. But I cannot see it. It is long since we had any hope," I realized he was speaking of Lady Galadriel.

Aragorn hesitantly sat down next to the Gondorian as the man shook his head.

"My father is a noble man, but his rule is failing and our people lose faith. He looks to me to make things right and I would do it. I would see the glory of Gondor restored."

He was silent for a moment, but then he turned to the heir of Isildur suddenly. "Have you ever seen it, Aragorn? The White Tower of Ecthelion, glimmering like a spike of pearl and silver, its banners caught high in the morning breeze… Have you ever been called home by the clear ringing of silver trumpets?" Boromir asked, pleasantly surprising me by his eloquence.

Aragorn sighed. "I have seen the white city… long ago,"

Boromir looked to me, but I merely shook my head. "I have wandered many directions, Boromir, but never to what lies so far South."

"One day, perhaps you will see it," he murmured, and then he smiled as though in a dream.

"One day our paths will lead us there…and the tower guards shall take up the call; 'The Lords of Gondor have returned!'"

Aragorn gave him a sad smile and rose. "Fate will give us our path when the time comes," he said quietly, "but for now, come to the breakfast table, Boromir. Do not think such grave thoughts."

The Gondorian shook his head as Aragorn strode through the pavilion door. "It is not that my thoughts are grave, it is that they fall too close to the future I see," he murmured.

I leaned forward slightly; a movement which made his eyes rise to meet mine. "In a time such as this, we all have had grave thoughts, Boromir. No one is exempt. But we must look to hope more than we look to the Shadow, even when it seems there is nothing left. G- Gandalf..." I paused when I stammered over his name in my still raw grief. I rushed on, "He told me this once on our journey."

Boromir straightened his shoulders. "And he is right."

But then he sighed, resting his hand on his knee, his thoughts seemingly taking him away again. "Do you believe Lady Ehlon would like Gondor? Minas Tirith?" Boromir suddenly asked, staring off into space.

My eyes widened in shock, but I composed myself quickly. "I would not know, Boromir. Why do you ask?"

"I have come to like Ehlon very much," he began slowly, "I merely thought she might like to visit Minas Tirith when this war is over,"

For some reason, his words had made me alarmed. I pushed back my surprise and alarm to come up with a reasonable response.

"Ehlon is a rare woman," I said quietly, "one of great nobility, wisdom, and heart. It would be difficult not to like her."

Boromir met my gaze. "Yes, that is true." And then he seemed slightly abashed. "I apologize for making you listen to my laments and far off wanderings, Amira."

I smiled reassuringly. "That's alright. Everyone needs someone to talk to."

He rose, coming up to lay a surprisingly gentle hand on my shoulder. "I count you among my friends, Amira. Thank-you,"

He turned and lifted the tent flap, leaving me gaping behind him.

* * *

I did not linger in the pavilion, for after I forgot my surprise at Boromir's actions and words, I sought out Ehlon in the House of Healing. Walking down the corridor, I saw that there was a black haired Elf standing outside her door, in the midst of shutting it behind him. He caught my eye, and then he smiled.

"Are you the young Ranger who came with Lady Ehlon?" he asked. I smiled in return, finding myself amazed that word had passed on so quickly.

"Yes, I am," I replied, coming to a stop in front of him.

He lowered his voice slightly, "Your healing is the reason why your companion is alive, my Lady. I wished you to know that."

My eyes widened, and I fumbled for a response. He laughed suddenly, the sound almost musical in properties.

"Ah, and humble too. Before you leave Lórien, young Ranger, I should like to know how you came to possess such a magical skill, for it is very rare in daughters or sons of Men," he said, and then he bowed slightly toward me. "I am sure you wish to see the Lady Ehlon."

"Thank-you, sir," I said, bowing my head as well, and he smiled before walking away. I took a deep breath before opening the door to Ehlon's room.

She was sitting up in her bed, looking vibrant. Her eyes light up when she saw me in the doorway. "Come in, Amira, do not make yourself a stranger to me."

I found myself flushing at her words, but I regained my composure and sat down in the chair. "And how are you feeling now, Ehlon?"

"Very well. They are allowing me to leave my room for the afternoon since my progress has been quite painless," she said, her eyes trained on mine. And then she smiled, "I heard you have met my Healer."

I laughed, "You have good ears."

"And you have a good healing touch," she countered, "I don't think you realize the enormity of your ability."

My smile faded. "I don't?"

She took my hand, lifting it up and examining it as though it was something she'd never seen before. "Very warm," she murmured to herself, interlocking our fingers.

I chuckled breathlessly. "All hands are warm, Ehlon. Mine is no different."

Ehlon ignored me completely. "The warmth I feel is not temperature." Her eyes met mine, "Can you control when your ability at all times?"

I frowned slightly, for no one had asked me that before. Gandalf, when I had discovered my abilities at age fifteen, had only cautioned me about it and let me learn from my own inherent magic.

"I don't know," I admitted, "but I believe so. Why? What is it that you are feeling?"

She squeezed my fingers. "Warmth and...Energy," she paused, looking at our hands, "You'll have to excuse me, Amira, for I have never before met someone who possessed a power such as yours." Ehlon closed her eyes briefly and then opened them again. "I feel warm and strengthened whenever you deliberately put your hand over mine. It is the strangest and most wonderful feeling, and yet I sense that you don't realize your own affect."

I realized I was blushing fairly strongly now. "I did not realize I have been doing that. I apologize-"

"Don't," she said shortly, and then she squeezed my fingers again. "Can you stop the flow of energy from reaching me?" This question surprised me, but I cast my embarrassment and shock away.

Taking a deep breath, I focused on halting whatever Ehlon was feeling.

"It's lessening," she murmured quietly, and I exerted more force, feeling a strange, cool sensation pass over me. She gasped suddenly.

My closed eyes flew open, and hers stared at me in astonishment. "What happened?"

Ehlon pulled her fingers from mine roughly. "Was that purposeful?" she bit out, her angry tone shocking me.

"What did I do?" I questioned, panicking as she searched my face for answers. Then she relaxed slightly, exhaling shakily.

"You caused me pain," she said. I jolted upward so that I was standing. The vision of the Eye returned, blooming in front of my eyes, that terrible echo of its voice resounding...

"_No_," I whispered, sinking to my knees. "No..."

"Amira, look at me," her voice seemed to come from underwater. I felt her fingers touch beneath my chin, and she lifted my head up slightly. Her grey eyes pierced into mine. "You are far more powerful than you think. Your energy goes out to all who is near. You can heal, and you can cause pain."

Unexpectedly, tears came to my eyes. "I did not mean-"

She laid a finger over my lips, her action shocking me into silence more than anything. "I know."

Then she touched my hand again. "You do not have an evil bone in your body, young one. I do not expect your abilities will corrupt you." She spoke my wordless dread. I took a deep breath, staring up at the ceiling so that the tears wouldn't fall.

"I will not let it, I cannot let it," I ground out, meeting her eyes again.

She gripped my hand tightly. "I know you won't."

I frowned. "How can you know that?" I whispered hoarsely, and she smiled sadly.

"Come here," she murmured, touching my shoulder and drawing me toward the edge of the bed. Shocked into tentativeness, I resisted, but then she slid down in the bed slightly to wrap her arms around my shoulders. The dam opened up inside of me and my emotions were suddenly on the outside, tears falling freely now. The death of Gandalf, the harrowing journey to Lothlórien, and seeing the Eye had all caught up on me.

"I'm sorry," I choked, and her hand tangled in my hair, holding me to her.

"Do not be sorry," she murmured, but I pulled back a little, gripping her hands tightly.

"I saw the Eye," I whispered forcefully, and her eyes widened while she tensed.

"Where? Here?" her tone was doubtful.

"In my dreams," I explained, and I looked away from her penetrating gaze. "And it spoke to me, Ehlon. It knows my ability, and it spoke of the way it will corrupt me..." I trailed off, and she sighed.

"Do not let that affect you," she said quietly, "Have faith in yourself."

I let go of her hands slowly, straightening my back and wiping away the tears angrily. "Gandalf told me the Ring would attack each of us in the most unexpected of ways," I whispered, and then I laughed humourlessly. "I suppose this was my turn."

She shocked me again by pulling me into another tight embrace. "You are strong, Amira, as am I. Yet we all have our weak moments when we need another to lean against," she paused, resting her chin on the top of my head, "I think it is as I predicted far earlier than now – there is more to you than meets the eye!"

As much as a forgotten part of me was enjoying her embrace, I pulled back upon processing her words. Her eyes were flashing, but I knew that she would tell me in her own time what exactly she meant. "Thank-you," I whispered, feeling myself blush. "I did not mean for you to see this, Ehlon. I wanted to help _you_, and now here I am..." I couldn't finish the sentence.

"Not everyone can be strong all the time," she said softly. I nodded, feeling a deep connection forming between us. As though she guessed my thoughts, she smiled a little. Then she frowned. "Have you eaten breakfast?"

I shook my head, and she sighed. "Perhaps you would like to join me for luncheon, then?"

I smiled genuinely, feeling much lighter than I'd felt in a long time. "I would like that."

* * *

After Ehlon and I had eaten our small luncheon, she asked the Healer for permission to walk along the paths for the afternoon. Delighted to see her up and glowing with health, the same Healer who had greeted me at the door earlier smiled and nodded, bowing slightly as we left.

I breathed in the sweet smell of the trees, remembering with a jolt that Boromir had wished me to report to him when Ehlon had awakened. I stole a half-guilty glance at my companion, whose eyebrows rose immediately. "What are you thinking?" she asked quietly.

"Boromir wanted to know when you were awake. It came to mind just now," I admitted. I watched her sigh.

"Well, I suppose you may tell him, since he will find me soon enough I'm sure," she said, a faraway look on her face.

"And what are _you_ thinking, Ehlon?" I asked slowly, and she shook her head. Her smile was sad when she met my eyes.

"Nay, my wanderings do not allow for words," she replied quietly.

I nodded, understanding completely. A thought crossed my mind at that moment, and I stopped suddenly. Ehlon halted as well, staring at me quizzically.

"Forgive me if you do not wish to say," I began falteringly, "but before I go to Boromir, I must know this...Ehlon, what lies in your heart?"

Her grey eyes darkened, and she turned away, starting to walk. I followed her, feeling terrible. I had ventured far too deep into personal territory.

"I do not mean to insult you-"

She interrupted me softly. "You didn't. You merely brought out a thought I've been meaning to ignore."

I'm certain my shock was evident on my face. "You love him?" I blurted out, and then she started to laugh as she halted on the path again.

"Oh, Amira, you took that the wrong way..." she trailed off, and then her amusement faded. Her expression was completely serious now. "I do not love him, nor will I ever."

I relaxed slightly, "My apologies-"

She touched my shoulder, "I accept."

Ehlon smiled as we began walking once more. "I hope my actions will dissuade him, but the message has not penetrated his thick skull yet, I do not think."

I immediately felt a bite of guilt as I remembered Boromir's earlier words.

_I have come to like Ehlon very much._

I wondered how he would react to Ehlon's rejection of his feelings.

"And what are you thinking now, young one?" she asked, drawing me out of my tangled thoughts.

Sighing, I shook my head. "It is none of my business, but I merely think of the future."

I didn't need to mention Ehlon and Boromir's future specifically in that statement, for Ehlon understand instantly. She nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips.

"When there are females in a Company of males, trouble is bound to surface," she said, and I laughed, making her do the same.

Despite her laughter, her eyes told me that something was still bothering her beside Lord Boromir. Thankfully, I knew better than to ask...

* * *

The Healer bade me to allow Ehlon some rest when an hour had passed, and I left her laying peacefully in her room. Walking quietly to the pavilion, I lifted the tent flap, peeking inside. Legolas was sitting on his bed roll, laying out his weapons and checking them over.

"Greetings Legolas," I said, bowing my head. He returned the gesture, sighing slightly.

"And how is the Lady Ehlon? I saw you walking with her in the gardens," he murmured.

I cocked my head off to the side. "You might have come and spoken with her," I teased, and he just smiled.

"You both appeared to be deep in conversation, so I let you be alone. Now, tell me, is she well?" Had he heard our conversation regarding Boromir?

I sighed, sitting down on a nearby chair. "She is recovering very quickly, thank the Valar."

"Indeed," he said, nodding slowly. He smiled, "My heart smiles to know she is well. She has worried us all."

I smiled back at him, and then I remembered Boromir. "Do you know the whereabouts of Boromir, Legolas?"

The Prince frowned. "Nay, not exactly, but I believe he went out wandering by the creek."

I stood, and after thanking the kind Elf, I exited the pavilion in search of the Gondorian.

I found him where Legolas had suggested I search, sitting on the bank of the creek.

"Boromir..." I called, and he snapped out of his reverie to turn toward me. He smiled, gesturing for me to join him on the bank. Sitting next to him, I saw that his face was relaxed and faraway, as though he had been thinking deeply for some time.

"And how are you, my friend?" he asked, his smile warm. I found myself surprised by his words once more, but I hid this.

"I am well, and so is Ehlon."

His eyebrows shot up at my mention of her name, and a strange glint appeared in his eyes. "Is she?"

I worded my next sentence carefully, brushing my fingers through the grass. "Indeed, she is well on the road to recovery, Boromir."

In a flurry of movement, he was standing. "Would the Healer allow me to visit her?" he asked, his voice belying his inner excitement.

"I believe he would," I admitted, and his smile was wide.

"Then I will go," he paused, putting a hand on my shoulder, "Thank-you again, Amira."

Before I could begin to think of a response, he was striding away quickly, his footsteps fading away. I sighed, hoping that all would go well for Ehlon.

I returned my gaze to the crystalline waters that leaped and bounded down the small hillside. It was easy to become lost in the beauty that surrounded me, so I let my mind ebb away and allow myself to observe the water and listen to the sweet calling of the birds up high in the trees...

* * *

**Now, I realize this isn't a very eventful chapter, but I think it is an important reprieve from the action scenes in Moria. Plus, Amira has some new things to think about: her growing power, wondering what's going on with Boromir, her strengthening relationship with Ehlon, etc. I apologize if you were bored by this chapter, but I can promise you it is essential for the events that come thereafter. **

**So, what do you think of Amira's ability? Like all human beings, she has a side that can do good, and another that can do evil; her magic works the same way. No, she won't be able to kill of dragons and sweep a dozen Uruk-hai off their feet with this newfound magic, so don't think I will go all Mary-Sue. I can promise you I won't, because then I would never forgive myself, haha. Let me know what you think.**

**Your comments and reviews make me smile. :) Thank-you so much!**


	12. Anger and the Ring

**Chapter Twelve – Anger and the Ring**

Perhaps one half an hour later, I heard loud footsteps coming in my direction. With the thought in mind that it might be Boromir, I stepped lightly behind a tree as he came into view. His face could have been carved out of stone, his anger literally palpable from my position by the tree. I had never seen such a dangerous kind of anger before, and when he picked up a fist sized rock and threw it violently into the water, I gasped.

Stepping out from behind the tree, I called to him, forgetting my caution. "Boromir! What is wrong?"

Indeed, he whirled around, his eyes flashing. "_You_..." he snarled, stalking toward me. I shrank back slightly as he stood in front of me, but I did not walk away. "_You knew!_"

At first I was confused, but then it dawned on me what he might be talking about: his rejection by Ehlon. His statement, especially the way it had been spoken, made me angry in turn. "Yes, I knew, Boromir. But what would I have said to you?" I shot back, and his hands curled into fists.

"But you _knew_," he growled darkly, and this was when I had the sense to back up a few steps.

"Yes, I did. I am Ehlon's friend," I said, forcing my voice not to waver.

"And you planned this all together, didn't you? You plotted away, didn't you?" he spat, and I stepped forward again.

"We did no such thing!" I hissed, and then I watched his eyes ignite again with that deadly anger. Something came together in my mind at that moment.

"Boromir..." I gasped, "This is not you speaking, it is the Ring!"

The anger left his face and shock replaced it. "What?" he gaped, and then he backed away from me several steps. "Amira, forgive me, I-I,"

I shook my head. "You frightened me, Boromir, but it was merely the Ring that spoke through you."

He fell to his knees in front of me. "Whatever am I to do? I cannot control it. It comes into my mind, Amira, and it is far too powerful!" His face now was panicked, and I observed that suddenly he looked very young.

"I do not know," I said softly, "but I know that the Ring preys on scattered emotions."

Boromir hung his head, "I did not realize how weak I have become!"

I touched his shoulder tentatively, "It spoke to me too, Boromir."

His head shot up, and I retracted my hand. But his face was calm now. "It did?"

I nodded, feeling strangely weary. "Yes, and it preyed on my doubts about my own abilities. It tried to corrupt me, tried to see my ability as something that would eat me up."

Boromir's eyes widened. "You cannot mean your healing power?"

I sighed, "Yes. I have my own weaknesses, like anyone else."

He stood suddenly, his moment of fragility very much over. "You are one of the strongest women I have ever known, other than Ehlon."

My smile was rueful. "I wish I were, for I would be better equipped to resist the Ring."

His confusion was evident now as he looked down on me. "But you _have_ resisted it!"

"It will continue to attack when I am at my weakest, I know," I said slowly, and he frowned.

"It will continue to attack me as well, then," he murmured, but then he threw his shoulders back, a kind of rigid will entering his eyes now. "I will not let that occur again."

I smiled a little, "You are always stronger than you believe, as Gandalf used to say."

Boromir met my eyes after a moment of silence. "You know Ehlon far better than I do, Amira. How will I face her now, after what I have done?"

I tensed slightly, but I gestured toward the bank. "Let us sit down for a moment," I said, and he joined me on the grass, his expression expectant.

I sighed, asking tentatively, "What did you do, Boromir?"

He winced slightly. "My pride will not have me tell all of it," he began, "but I went to her so I could state my love for her. When she did not reflect this back to me, my words were very harsh. I was not in control of myself at that moment." He paused, and then he sighed, "I feel terribly now, Amira."

I hummed in response as I mulled his words over. "If you ask her for forgiveness, I am certain things would be right again between you," I finally said.

Boromir's eyes lit up. "Do you think so?"

I smiled, "Certainly. She would be foolish not to. Despite some of your actions, Boromir, you have proven yourself many times to be a noble man, a respectable warrior. Once your battle with the Ring is over, things will be easier."

My sincere words had their intended effect, and he rose. "Then I will see her now."

"Good," was all I could say.

He sighed, looking down at me. "I hope you will overlook my earlier actions, Amira. I value your friendship highly. You have been far too kind to me."

"I've been as kind as I see you deserve, Boromir," I returned, and he smiled.

"I am very glad you were chosen for the Fellowship, my friend," he murmured before turning away and striding up the small hillside, disappearing quickly out of sight.

Tilting myself backward, I let my back touch the grass as I lay down fully. I was weary after a strange and eventful afternoon, yes, but I was also glad of the good that had come out of it: my increased connection with Ehlon, and Boromir's surprising befriending of me. So much had gone wrong after the Mines of Moria, but I was beginning to feel that the Fellowship had undergone changes which would ensure its strength for our future road, wherever it might lead us...

* * *

I bumped into Marchwarden Haldir, the Elf that had led us into Lórien, on the path later that afternoon. He looked distracted, as though he were searching for someone, but he took the time to bow his head and bid me a good afternoon.

"And how are you enjoying your stay in Lórien, my Lady?" he asked politely, and I was puzzled by many of the Elves continued titles for me. I was far from a "my Lady".

I smiled, "I am enjoying it very well. I have never visited here before, and it is far more beautiful than my dreams could depict."

"My heart sings to hear it," he said sincerely, and then he glanced quickly down the path in the opposite direction. "Forgive me, my Lady, but I am searching for Prince Legolas of Mirkwood from your Fellowship. Have you seen him?"

"He was inside our pavilion perhaps an hour before," I murmured, "but I'm sure he would have left since then."

The Marchwarden nodded, "Thank-you. I will continue my search."

"Then I bid you a good afternoon, sir," I said formally, and his smile was back, the sun catching on his golden hair.

"And I for you, my Lady. Apologies for my haste," he returned, bowing slightly and then turning as I did to walk away.

I continued my slow walk to the pavilion, and was greeted by the Hobbits inside.

"Amira!" Pippin cried, having looked up from the card game they were playing.

"We had thought you might have got lost on the paths," Merry exclaimed, and I just shook my head with an amused smile.

"They are indeed confusing at times, but nay, I was merely enjoying my afternoon wandering around," I said, and I saw Frodo smile.

"It is beautiful here," he murmured.

"It is," I agreed, and then Sam let out a whoop.

"Now _this_ is truly beautiful, fellows," he cried, and I raised my eyebrows at Frodo, who was looking much less pale and weary.

"He's been beating us at nearly every game we've played," Frodo explained.

"And he's getting a big head about it, too," Pippin grumbled.

"Beginner's luck, I'd say," Merry put in, and I laughed at their expressions.

"Do you have room for one more?" I asked, and immediately all of their faces lit up.

"Oh, yes! Do sit with us!" Sam cried, patting the place next to him, and for the rest of the late afternoon the Hobbits taught me the tricks of the card game they were playing. I had never heard of it, but it was one of those bluffing games that require tact. I enjoyed myself thoroughly, my heart forgetting its heavy grief...

* * *

**Yes, I am aware that this is a very short chapter, which is why I am going to upload Chapter 13 directly after I publish this one. :) As you have read, it seems that the Ring is beginning to start some trouble...What will come of it? You'll find out soon.**

**What are you thoughts regarding the characterization of Boromir? It is difficult to do him justice at times, and at others, equally difficult not to fall into the trap of making him out to be a villain, which I have tried my best not to do.**

**Please comment and review. I am always very happy to receive them. Thank-you my friends!**


	13. Lighter Hearts & a Wounded Hand

**Chapter Thirteen – Lighter Hearts and a Wounded Hand**

The next morning I had a visit from Ehlon in the pavilion, and she looked so healthy I couldn't help but stare as she stood in the entrance.

"Good morning Ehlon," I finally greeted her; "You look much refreshed."

"I feel refreshed," she said, sitting down on a chair nearby, facing me. "You spoke with Boromir yesterday, did you not?"

I hesitated, wondering if he had said something more to hurt her. "Yes."

Her smile was the warmest by far. "I knew you must have. He was very apologetic and kind when he returned to my room."

I couldn't help but smile back. "I am glad."

"As am I," she murmured, "I never enjoy creating animosity between someone like Boromir. He is a good man, but not for me."

"I understand," I said, and she looked up, a knowing smile on her face.

"Oh you understand far too well, I think," she responded.

I was confused. "What do you mean?"

"You are very observant," she answered cryptically, shaking her head. Once again, the mystery surrounding the inner workings of the woman Ranger had me burning with curiosity. But I also knew I would not wish to jeopardize the advances our friendship had made with abrasive questions. In her own time, she would tell me straight. Or not. In the meantime, I would wait patiently. As it was, I felt beyond fortunate to have shared so much with her...

* * *

The news of Gandalf's death and our arrival in Lothlórien swept over the city like wildfire, and now the Elves that had left us to our peace began to cast inquisitive glances toward us and our pavilion. The children were particularly curious, and as the day grew into afternoon, they played closer and closer to our temporary camp. I sat outside on the grass for a moment, watching them in their play. Finally, after a few minutes, one Elf ran up to me. She had her hands tucked behind her back shyly, and I smiled at her.

"Hello," I greeted her in Elvish, and her green eyes widened. Likely she thought I only had knowledge of Westron. For the thousandth time, I thanked my lucky stars I had paid attention to Gandalf's language lessons.

"Hello," she said, her voice like wind chimes. "Are you the Ranger that saved Lady Ehlon?"

Her question surprised me, but I just shook my head. "Nay, it was not entirely me. But I am that Ranger, yes."

She beamed, "Oh I hoped it was you!" Then her young face grew serious. "Would you come and play with us?" she asked with utmost grace. I couldn't help but smile.

"Nothing would delight me more," I replied. Taking my hand, she pulled me further onto the lawn where her comrades, five of them in all, played. They shouted with excitement when they saw me, and I had to listen very carefully to understand their quick, musical voices.

In the end, they incorporated me into their game of throwing a type of ball between them. It was sewn out of linen, it seemed, and its fabric glistened in the sunlight as it was thrown into the air. The young Elves laughed and squealed as they passed the ball back and forth, shouting when someone dropped it in their haste. My hand was still sore from the wound I'd garnered from the Chamber of Mazarbul, but I was able to keep up with them well enough. The young Elves noticed the bandage after a few minutes of play.

"Did you hurt yourself?" the first girl asked, touching the bandage with a light finger. Before I could answer, a boy stepped forward.

"Is that from Moria?" he asked, his eyes wide. I wondered briefly if they even knew the true terrors of Moria, and prayed they never would.

"Yes it is," I answered quietly, watching the others come closer to me. I sat down on the grass, feeling strangely weary. "It is a small price to pay for passing through with our lives,"

"Was it frightening?" another girl piped up, and I smiled a little.

"It certainly was," I said truthfully, "I wouldn't like to travel there again."

The first girl sat down next to me. "I wouldn't like to travel there either," she whispered with a small shiver.

"My father tells me there are dark beings in Moria," another boy said, and I met his aqua eyes.

"There are," I admitted. His eyes widened.

"Elves don't go into places where Dwarves live," a girl to my right announced. "Some of them live in strange, dark places."

I fought back my amusement. "Yes, most of them do, but they are also very gracious and grand folk, not to mention loyal, enduring fighters. Moria was abandoned many years ago,"

"How long ago?" the first boy asked.

"Before my time," I said, for I did not know for certain myself.

"Is it true that you're a Ranger from the North?" another girl asked.

"It is," I responded.

"Is that exciting?"

I thought about that for a moment. I sighed, "Yes, sometimes it is exciting, but mostly it is a life of travelling. I have seen many things throughout my life, and I am still seeing new places every year, it seems."

"What about the duels?" the first boy asked, his eyes lighting up. I frowned slightly.

"Those are not exciting," I said darkly. The first girl looked at me, rapt. In fact, all six of the young Elves were sitting close by and listening carefully.

"They're very dangerous," I continued, "and a person must be ready in many ways in order to fight on that scale. It is also very frightening at times, no matter how many battles you have fought."

"One day I would like to fight," the first boy muttered.

I smiled sadly, "Maybe one day you will, when you are completely ready. I hope that before you reach that age it will no longer be necessary."

He smiled, and the girl to my right touched my knee.

"Would you tell us a story about your travels?"

I nodded, and they shouted with delight, clapping their hands. They were really quite charming, and I was enjoying their company as much as they appeared to be enjoying mine. I launched into a humorous story featuring Gandalf and I, and as much as it hurt to tell it, the smiles on the young faces in front of me made the telling worth it.

When I had finished, they clapped and smiled. A hand touched my shoulder, and I whirled around automatically in defence. Instead, I met the amused face of an Elven woman. I relaxed. As young as she appeared, she was likely far older than I. The first girl ran to her mother, hugging her legs excitedly, recounting my inclusion in their games and my storytelling. The mother looked at me with glittering eyes that seemed to dance with happiness.

"Thank-you for playing with our children, my Lady. It is an honour and treasure to have you among our own," she said, her voice soft and flowing like a river. I stood carefully, feeling the pain return to my hand.

"And thank-you for allowing me to spend time with these wonderful children," I replied, returning her smile, "I could not have thought of a better way to spend my afternoon."

The five Elven children suddenly tapped on my arms, thanking me before they ran toward the fountain and leaped over the bridge.

"You are very kind, Lady Amira," the mother said.

"I do not have that rank. Please call me Amira," I insisted, and the Elf nodded. Suddenly, her eyes strayed from mine, travelling to my bandaged hand. Her eyes widened.

"Have you been to the House of Healing?" she asked, and I shook my head. She reached for my hand, which I held up upon her hesitation. She took my hand gingerly, appraising Aragorn's bind work.

"She was wounded in Moria," her daughter put in quietly, and I smiled at both of them.

"As I said, a small price to pay for escaping with our lives," I murmured, wincing when the Elven woman pressed down on the bandage lightly.

"My apologies. This should be looked at by a healer," she concluded, letting go of my hand. "It may be infected."

I frowned a little. "Do you think so?"

She nodded, "Come, I will take you."

Grasping my non-injured hand in hers, she led me over the bridge and up toward the House of Healing. Moving swiftly, she led me to a small room wherein sat the black haired Healer I had met the day before. He stood upon our sudden appearance, having been in the middle of writing in a small red book.

"Greetings," he said with a smile. The mother standing next to me spoke to him rapidly, explaining the situation with my hand. Suddenly I felt overwhelmingly embarrassed; I had suffered far worse wounds than this.

"She was wounded in Moria," the little girl repeated to him, and the Healer looked at her.

"She is luckily not to have been injured far worse," he said, glancing at my hand, now in his grasp. "Sit over here a moment. I will have this properly dressed shortly,"

The Elven woman sat next to me while he unwrapped Aragorn's handiwork, and she turned her child's eyes away from my wound when it surfaced. It was far worse than it had looked a day or two before, and I could see that it was, indeed, infected.

"Oh," the Healer sighed as he appraised my newly bleeding hand. "This is most unfortunate. Your sword hand."

I smiled tightly, "Yes. An Orc, I'm afraid,"

The mother glanced at me, her eyes wide at my casual mention of the creature that had injured me. Her daughter's small, cool hand found my left one, and I squeezed it reassuringly.

"Not to worry," the Healer said suddenly, "I believe it will heal quickly." He cleaned it very carefully, dipping a soft cloth into fragrant water. I flinched a little, but otherwise his actions did not pain me. As he had promised, it was a short moment later that he leaned back, having bandaged my wound with soft, fresh linen.

"There!" he cried triumphantly, replacing his assortment of tools. The little Elf stared at the new bandage.

"Does it hurt anymore?" she asked, looking up at me, having been sitting between her mother and I. I smiled, realizing that the pain had left completely.

"Nay," I said truthfully. "It is gone."

After thanking the Healer for his skills, to which he merely smiled and wished us well, we left his room and exited the House of Healing. We halted on the bridge, and I turned to the mother.

"My apologies, but I do not know your name," I said, and she smiled.

"I am Bruhnen," she returned smoothly, "and this is my daughter, Leirhen."

"Thank-you both for helping me," I began, and she merely waved her hand.

"It is an honour," Bruhnen said, and then dipped her head slightly. "I must go, but I hope to meet you again before you leave Lórien."

"As do I," I smiled, returning her slight bow. Moments later, Bruhnen and her daughter had disappeared down one of the many paths among the trees.

* * *

At the luncheon table I sat next to Aragorn, who appeared to be troubled. I watched his brow furrow while the rest of the Fellowship talked about trivial subjects, and I noticed he was holding his fork rather tightly. Discreetly, I bumped his knee under the table with mine, drawing his eyes in my direction.

"_Naa le quel?"_ 'Are you well?' I murmured, and a smile swept over his face suddenly.

"_Im maer, hannon le_." 'I'm fine, thank-you.' He answered quietly, "Iman hov le nal hen naa." 'I think of our journey ahead.'

I frowned a little, taking a bite of the roasted potatoes. Vaguely, I noticed that Legolas was watching us, having heard Elvish. "_Eôn maer le instannen, u le naal_." 'You are our leader now, we trust you.'

He met my eyes, his hazel ones darker than usual. "_A' Sindava nae si dan,_" 'The Shadow has already fallen,' he said slowly, "_Gandalf bau reniad lín ne môr, nuithannen_." 'Gandalf's journey ended in darkness.'

That familiar icy hand gripped my heart upon hearing Gandalf's name. I swallowed carefully, unable to say anything more.

"We will go on," Aragorn continued in Westron, "but it will not be as it was."

I smiled sadly, finding my voice. "Nothing will be as it was," I said quietly. "But we have hope..."

He set down his fork before turning to me. "I apologize for my dark thoughts, Amira," he paused, his eyes stormy, "but I merely worry for our future."

Somehow I knew he was speaking of Lord Boromir and what he might do if the Ring continued to take hold over his will. I knew we would need to guard Frodo ever more seriously, for the threat would not be merely from others, but also from within...

* * *

That evening Aragorn ordered a small Counsel in the pavilion. All of the Fellowship was present, even Ehlon, who had been discharged from the House of Healing at last. Aragorn stood at the front of the tent, standing with his hands clasped in front of him. Looking back, he had never looked more like a leader, like the King he was to be.

"I have counselled with Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel," he began, "and our path has been set: it is now that the time has come for us to leave Lórien entirely." He paused, taking a deep breath. "We will be travelling on the River Anduin, which will lead us to the land of Rohan, from where we will pass through to Mordor."

I saw Frodo shiver at the mention of that dark land, and I watched his hand clench the Ring hanging from the necklace. The others were astonishingly quiet, particularly Boromir, who stared at the Ranger without expression.

Aragorn's face now turned sad. "Gandalf has left us, but he has not left us without direction. The days grow darker, and Middle Earth awaits us. It is up to the Fellowship now to go on,"

Ehlon spoke up at the end of his speech. "When shall we leave?"

"If the weather permits, we will leave the day past tomorrow. We will prepare ourselves for a day and then disembark," he responded.

"So it is time for us to lop off more Orc heads!" Gimli put in lightly, lifting up his axe. I grinned, as did Aragorn, for the tension resulting from the Ranger's words had lifted upon the Dwarf's statement.

"Yes, Gimli. It is time," Aragorn replied with amusement, sitting down on his bed roll.

Boromir's voice was heard suddenly. "And you believe Lady Ehlon is truly healed well enough to travel, and also to fight if the need may be?"

Ehlon cast him a rather irritated glance, but it was Aragorn that spoke. "Yes, Lady Ehlon is fit for both travelling and fighting, Boromir, thanks to the Healer and Amira,"

"The Great River Anduin is mostly calm at this time in the year," Legolas said quietly, rising from his chair to pace around the pavilion, "It will bear us well."

The others moved toward the exit, leaving the tent muttering amongst themselves. This left Aragorn, Legolas, Ehlon and I behind. I shifted on my bed roll, rubbing my forehead.

"We will make greater speed along Anduin, will we not?" I asked Aragorn, and he nodded.

"I hope our journey ahead will be less grave," he replied, his voice faraway. I tensed. He was likely thinking about Gandalf and his fall in the Mines of Moria. Would his death ever leave our weary minds and aching hearts?

"We have a good man leading us," Ehlon said quietly, drawing Aragorn's eyes. Upon seeing her soft, pensive expression, he smiled a little as he shook his dark head.

Legolas sighed, "A man who puts far too much weight upon his shoulders."

I nodded in silent agreement, and Aragorn looked at all of us appraisingly. Then, to my surprise, he laughed.

"I should be happy for your support, my friends, but why do I feel like you are conspiring against me?" His tone was light, but there something to it that made me frown: he still doubted himself.

"Not conspiring," I put in, "but rather trying to make you see your own worth."

Aragorn turned to me, a smile on his face now. "I think far too much, I'm afraid," he said, straightening his shoulders and standing, "but I value you all more than you know."

With this, he hastily left the pavilion.

* * *

**Any thoughts on the young Elves? ;) I just couldn't help myself while I was writing them into the story; they just took on a life of their own, demanding to be included. **

**Now the Fellowship is to leave Lorien...a sad thought, but necessary. As far as the length of this first Volume is concerned, we are close to the end, though we still have much ground to cover. I will upload chapters soon. **

**Please comment and review, as it inspires me. **


	14. Leaving Lórien

** Chapter Fourteen – Leaving Lórien**

As Aragorn had advised, the following day was spent in solemn preparation. I gathered my assorted weapons and cleaned them of grime alongside Gimli in the pavilion, who was lovingly wiping down his axe. He was mostly silent, although murmuring to himself once and awhile in Dwarfish. I caught a few words, and could only guess that he was reciting his own war prayers. Once his axe was cleansed to perfection, he stood, looking down at my own glimmering blade.

He shook his head, "I do not know how you could wield an awkward contraption like that all the time. It does not seem very strong." Gimli hefted his axe proudly, "Feel this, lass. It is heavy and full of strength!"

I stood, rolling my stiff neck to the side. Taking the axe from his hands, I was surprised by its true heaviness. I turned it over in my hands, admiring the foreign writing alongside the blade.

"And I do not know how _you_ wield such a heavy contraption," I said with a smile, returning his axe, "My arms would fall off after only a few moments." I watched him swing the axe in a small arc, respecting the strength and endurance it took to wield.

Gimli threw his head back and laughed. "It is no small matter to swing about, lass, no no! But I would never wield anything else."

He glanced at me again, watching me crouch next to my sword and resume cleaning.

"Your swords a shorter and wider than most, are they not?" I asked, and the Dwarf grinned.

"Aye, short and wide like us!" he cried, but then he grew more serious. "Some are known to wield swords, but most of us Dwarves enjoy a good, solid axe."

I nodded, lifting my sword up for appraisal. It appeared practically new, although I had been travelling and fighting with the sword since I was nineteen. However, its history went far beyond me...It had been given to me by a Dunedain chief, Rogan, who was said to have known my family. The sword, he said, had belonged to my mother's mother, who had fought in a great many battles for the Dunedain people. I then traded my old sword, a standard model, for a new tunic.

The new sword was Elven made, and the writing etched along the blade itself was an ancient form of Elfish. It was a simple style compared to some Elven swords I had seen, but it was still quite beautiful and elegant, for an item of war. Gandalf had looked at the sword, shaking his head with an unreadable expression on his face. He told me it was likely forged at the beginning of the Second Age, but he never translated the text upon the blade.

"Is that a family blade?" Gimli asked, startling me out of my memories. I nodded, brushing my fingers of the slender hilt.

"It is," I said, and then I stood, holding out the sword to him. "Here, feel its lightness."

It was rather amusing to watch the look of bewilderment as the Dwarf took the blade into his hands, handling it as though he had never seen one before. He muttered to himself in Dwarfish again, backing away to give the sword a small experimental swing. The tip cut into the grass, becoming wedged. Gimli jumped back in a comical fright, the sword dragging back with him. I laughed at his wide eyed expression as he looked down at the sword again.

"Well, now, it is good that I am not fighting with this. It is too long for someone of my stature," he said gruffly, handing back my blade. I just smiled, crouching down to wipe down my remaining dagger. He sat down nearby, seemingly deep in thought.

Then he spoke, startling me by the intensity behind his words, "Let me see that blade again, lass,"

Slowly, I passed my sword into his awaiting hands. I watched his eyes scan the etching on the blade, and then he frowned deeply. "This is Dwarfish," he said, looking up at me with open curiosity.

I gaped at him. "I had assumed the blade was Elven made,"

We shared a moment of mutual shock.

"This is no Elven blade. It reads here..." he trailed off, clearing his throat, "_Fear not, child of light, for even in the darkest times...there is always hope.__"_

Gimli glanced at me, taking in my likely stupefied expression. I swallowed thickly, "I have never known what it read, but now..." I shook my head, "What can it mean?"

The Dwarf handed me my sword carefully after casting his eyes over the text one last time. "I suppose you will discover this at a later date, if you are meant to know," Gimli said, and then he chuckled, "It is a strange and powerful thing you have come to possess, and no mistake! You are certainly full of mystery,"

I shook my head, lost in thought as I turned over possible meanings of the etching...

* * *

After luncheon, Aragorn took Ehlon to the nearby training grounds. I followed along, leaving behind the Hobbits as they muttered over what food they should take with them the next day. The two Rangers faced each other in the circle, touching blades as was the custom before a spar. I watched for an hour as Aragorn pressed Ehlon's endurance, and I kept a strict eye on her expressions to be sure she wasn't in pain. She appeared completely well, and my concern turned to admiration and respect as I followed her quick, graceful movements. Glad was I that I wouldn't be her foe!

Finally, after neither could properly win over the other, Aragorn called for a halt. His ruggedly handsome face shone with sweat beneath the sun, and he laughed when Ehlon teased him for being an "old man". He leaned on his sword, the tip burying into the dirt. I realized this was the most carefree I had seen him since Rivendell, and I wondered if any of us would ever feel so lighthearted again...

When nightfall came and the sunsets beautiful hues had faded from the sky, I was feeling restless. The Hobbits were sleeping peacefully in the pavilion, and Boromir, Legolas, Ehlon, and Aragorn spoke in hushed tones of the upcoming journey. I rose from my bed roll, escaping out of the pavilion without the others notice. Something was tugging at me, but I could not place it. The stars and silver crescent moon were in the ebony sky, and I began to walk aimlessly.

I listened to the Elves singing and laughter, feeling that age-old connection to safe havens like these. It was always difficult to leave them. I sighed, continuing on down a path I had not taken before. My agitation grew with each step I took, and although I was weary, I did not stop walking. Almost as though I knew all along where my feet were taking me, I did not even gasp when Lady Galadriel's magnificent garden came into view. The ferns and flowering bushes here were thick, and the great tree trunks were covered in moss. I rounded a corner, watching the path decline into a slight ravine. A small creek flowed nearby, and its music joined the whispers of wind in the trees and the voices of the Elves.

Overwhelmed by the beauty of it all, I stopped in the middle of the path. At that moment, I vowed I would never forget the scene. I never did. Still gazing in awe up at the trees and sky, I was startled by a familiar, melodious voice.

"I had hoped I would see you alone before you left Lórien," it murmured, and I whirled around to face Lady Galadriel. My staggering heartbeat levelled, and I smiled at her, dipping into a bow.

"My Lady," I greeted her simply, for all my stores of eloquence had evaporated upon seeing her. The moon brought out the gold in her long hair and the white in her alabaster skin, but there were shadows over her face, making her appear more mysterious than ever.

She gazed at me for a long moment, and I felt a power probing at my mind. Relaxing my guard, I allowed her to see into my mind. I watched her sift through my memories at an astonishing speed, and once she had retreated, I felt slightly faint from the experience. She smiled sadly.

"You are young to see all that you have," she said, stepping closer. I felt as though I had been turned to stone, and I could not have moved even if I wanted to. It was not as though her presence was frightening, it was merely disconcerting. Finally, once she was merely an arm's length away, she stopped. Just as literature had attempted to describe for centuries, her beauty was beyond imagination.

"I believe you know why you are here," Lady Galadriel whispered. I sighed, feeling my tenseness ebb as warmth flowed over me.

"You drew me," I said, more to myself than to her. I felt entirely relaxed now, an abrupt change from moments before. It was as though I were in a dream. I had never felt more peaceful in my life.

She smiled, "I did."

Suddenly, a vision of Frodo and Sam standing in this garden flashed across my mind, and I gasped. "You summoned Frodo as well."

Lady Galadriel nodded, never moving her eyes away from mine. "Yes, Amira, he and his companion were here a few hours ago. They looked into the Mirror and saw what is to come..." she trailed off, her voice sounding in my mind.

_And you would see what is to come as well, if you wished to see it._

My dreamlike relaxation ceased, and I stepped backward in surprise. My eyes fell to the earth. What was she offering me? Cautiously, I looked into her eyes again; they gave nothing away. And yet, I had a strong feeling that something had transpired between she and Frodo.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "M-my apologies, my Lady, but I do not know why you offer this to me," I stammered. I watched a small flicker of unreadable expression pass across her arresting eyes. And then she sighed.

"You are perceptive indeed," she murmured, and I had to look away from her piercing gaze. It was as though she could see into my very soul, extracting every thought or feeling that had ever lain there.

I frowned, still confused. "And what would I do with this knowledge, my Lady?"

"It would help you understand," she answered cryptically. Somehow, her evasive responses were reminding me of Gandalf, and a jolt of pain went through me at the thought.

In the silence after her words I met her eyes again. We watched each other like two opponents waiting for the other to make their first move. Finally, Lady Galadriel laughed musically.

"You do not need to fear or doubt my character, young one," she said, lifting her hand toward me. I hesitated, seeing the moonlight flicker over her Ring of Power. "Come with me for a moment," she prompted, and I finally took her hand. An immediate sensation of warmth flowed through me, and my body relaxed once again.

Slowly, she led me into the ravine where a shimmering pedestal sat, surrounded by the giant trees. She dropped my hand, turning to face me.

"I only offer you the choice," she intoned, and I wondered why I had ever been afraid to trust her. This was Lady Arwen's grandmother, the Lady of the Wood!

"I am sorry," I whispered, shaking my head and lowering my eyes in shame.

Her fingers touched my forehead, and my eyes snapped up to hers. "I understand," Lady Galadriel returned, but her voice held sadness.

I took a deep breath when her hand retreated. "My Lady, what would you advise I do?"

She shook her golden head, a smile forming on her lips. "I cannot say," she said quietly. "Only you can know."

I nodded, "If you still make the gracious offer, my Lady, I will look." To my shame, my voice had a tremble to it. Was I truly so fearful of the future?

Leading me to the pedestal, she warned me not to touch the water. Then she stepped back, watching with those knowing eyes. Forcing away my indecisiveness and fear, I looked into the waters.

At first, all I saw was a reflection of the starry sky above us, but then the image began to change...I saw Isengard, taken over by Saruman, and an army of Orcs chopping down tree after tree for their fires. Saruman himself stood upon one of the two towers, his white robes rippling in the wind. He turned toward me, as though sensing my presence. But then the image shifted at a dizzying speed. The scene was now by the sea, and a large boat was being boarded by hundreds of elves. One of them looked up, and their hood fell back, revealing an achingly familiar face. It was Arwen Undómiel, sailing to the Undying Lands! Her eyes filled with tears. The focus shifted to another Elf, who looked directly into my eyes: Lady Galadriel, also setting sail. The water boiled, changing to Minas Tirith lying in ruins, bleeding bodies amid the smoking rubble.

Children and their mothers were being rounded up by Uruk-hai, shuffling with chains on their hands and feet, crying as the bodies of their fallen fathers, brothers, and sons surrounded them. Suddenly Ehlon's face came into view, and she sat upon an ornate throne, her expression hard and forbidding. She then turned to someone I could not see, speaking to them rapidly. She stood, having taken a bow from an assistant. Aiming directly at me, she fired an arrow. Before I could react, the image changed yet again. It was the fields around the Shire that I had seen, but they were burning. Hobbits were being forced to set alight their own fields and houses by armoured Orcs, who flogged them into action with heavy black whips.

And this is when the image changed one last time.

My eyes widened when I saw a figure walking on what seemed like the slopes of Mount Doom, fear overwhelming as the hood fell back to reveal..._me_. There was a dagger in my hand and a wild expression on my face, which seemed to have aged greatly. In the next second, I watched myself bury the dagger into my heart, crumpling to the ashy ground as the Eye stormed suddenly in the background. The reflection of the stars returned, and I realized I was gripping the sides of the pedestal tightly and my breathing was ragged. I stepped back, feeling weak.

"So now you know," Lady Galadriel whispered almost sympathetically. I met her eyes, struggling to control my shaking hands and staggering heartbeat.

I swallowed back the lump in my throat. "You will sail to the Undying Lands," I said in disbelief, and she nodded. I was confused, for I had been of the understanding that Lady Galadriel had been in exile from the Valar and was not permitted access to those lands. Something must have changed greatly...

And that was when it entered my mind.

"Frodo offered you the Ring," I intoned slowly. I watched her eyes widen slightly before returning to normal.

She murmured something incomprehensible to herself, and then she smiled. "Yes, Frodo offered the One Ring to me, dearest Amira, and it took a great deal of my power to refuse it."

It was as though someone else was speaking through me in those moments. "For you would have become great and terrible," I whispered slowly, and she continued to stare directly into my eyes from across the pedestal.

It was me that looked away now, feeling weary. "What does this all mean, my Lady?" I asked, knowing the answer was not hers to give.

She smiled sadly, "You will find out in time, young one, but for now you should rest. Do not dwell on what you have seen, but remember it for the times when the Ring is at its most powerful."

I nodded, bowing my head. "Thank-you for this honour, Lady Galadriel. I will never forget it."

"Neither shall I," she murmured, surprising me. Then she laughed. "Dearest Amira, now is only the beginning from which you discover the true extent of the magic bestowed by the Valar. You do not underestimate the One Ring, young one, therefore do not underestimate yourself!"

"The Valar?" I asked in confusion, and Lady Galadriel held out her hand, the palm facing me. She nodded before I could word my question, and I stepped forward, laying my palm against hers. Immediately, the warmth of her power washed over me, but it was her eyes that brightened as she smiled.

"Ah, yes," she whispered, "It is very much alive within you now. It will only grow with time..."

She grasped my fingers suddenly in a tight grip, pulling me a step forward. I gasped at her action, but her eyes were alight with intensity far too deep to look upon.

"Magic is killed by doubt and fear, Amira, so keep your hope alive! Do not extinguish it!" Casting me a profound stare, she pulled back, releasing my hand.

I bowed my head, speaking in a trembling voice, "I would have wished to have met you far earlier, my Lady. Middle Earth shall mourn your departure forever."

Lady Galadriel's lips curved into a radiant smile, but she did not speak. She merely stood and looked at me, as though assessing every aspect of my soul. And then she sighed.

"Go now, dearest Amira, but remember my words for I will not speak them again! Find peace in your dreams,"

I bowed deeply to her, touching the earth with my hands. "Goodnight my Lady,"

She merely nodded, her eyes brimming with unreadable emotion and thought as I turned down the path. When I looked back on this moment far later, I would recall the shining tear that fell from the Lady of the Wood's eye, a crystalline orb falling gracefully and softly to the ground. Her mourning had begun as early as that night in Lórien, but the reasons for which I would only begin to understand on my journey that lay ahead...

* * *

It was as difficult leaving Lórien as it was leaving Rivendell, and I wondered if I would ever look upon it again (February 16th, TA 3019). Even Aragorn gazed at the scenery with pensiveness as we made our way slowly down the slope toward the Great River Anduin, and only later would I discover that on one of the grassy hills he and Arwen had entrusted their love to each other those years ago. Elves followed us and watched our descent while they sung their achingly beautiful songs. I passed by a familiar face, and when she waved, I could see that it was Bruhnen and her daughter.

"Farewell, Ranger Amira!" she called, "I hope we may meet again!"

Next to her stood the black haired Healer who had attended Ehlon. "May the Valar protect you!" he said as we walked past. I waved goodbye to all three, not sure if I could speak past the lump in my throat.

Suddenly Leirhen ran out from her mother's side, and she tugged on my sleeve. "Will you promise to come back and visit when you have finished your quest?"

Her innocent eyes and hopeful face nearly drew tears to my eyes. I crouched in front of her, "Yes," I said hoarsely, not sure if I was making a promise I couldn't keep. "I will come back."

"Don't let those terrible Orcs hurt you again," she said, and I just smiled. To my surprise, the young Elf wrapped her arms around my neck, and I embraced her tightly in return.

Pulling back, I touched her hair, "Stay strong and hopeful, Leirhen."

Bruhnen came to draw her child into her arms. "Thank-you," she said quietly, and I saw tears swimming in those twinkling eyes.

I looked up to where the others had advanced down the path, and the Elf merely smiled a sad smile. "Go! They await you," she whispered, "May Elbereth light your path!"

Jogging lightly, but with a heavy heart, I caught up with the rest of the Fellowship.

Sam looked at me with a solemn face. "Is it always so difficult to leave a place like this?" he asked quietly, and I sighed, drinking in the majestic trees and song of the Elves.

"Yes, Sam, I think it is," I replied slowly, and he squeezed my hand.

"I may be just a gardener from the Shire, but I think you and I should come back here again when the Ring has been destroyed," he said. His words made me smile, and I realized I had come to like the Hobbit quite a lot.

"I think we should," I agreed, "and you're not just a gardener, Sam, you're a member of the Fellowship."

"And a great friend," a voice added, and I turned to see Frodo slow down to walk with us.

Sam blushed but did not say any more, quickening his steps to join Merry and Pippin. Looking carefully at Frodo, I saw that he appeared far stronger and healthy than I had seen him in a long time. Lórien had done him well, it seemed. Truly, it had done us all well...

I lowered my voice slightly, leaning toward him. "And how are you, Frodo?" He met my eyes, and I knew he instantly understood what I was referring to: the Ring.

"I feel well. It does not weigh on me today," he murmured, "Not like it did on the day of our departure from Rivendell."

"I am glad to hear it," I said sincerely. "The burden you bear is heavy, far heavier than I know."

Frodo smiled a little. "It rests here, but perhaps once outside the borders of Lórien my heart may not be light for long,"

I digested his words for a moment. Finally, I asked the question I had been meaning to voice. "Is there anything I can do to lighten this burden, Frodo? If so, name it and I will gladly do it."

His response was immediate. He halted where the path had narrowed and the trees grew close together. "No!" he whispered, clutching my forearm tightly, "You do not know what you ask! And even if I knew how to lighten the effect of the Ring, I would never ask you to take on what is my duty to carry."

I glanced at his hand holding tightly to my arm, and then back into his eyes. We resumed walking again. "It may be your duty, Frodo, but remember my words when the Ring is at its most powerful," I cautioned, and then a disturbing thought came to mind. "I hope you do not think I desire the Ring, Frodo Baggins!"

To my surprise, the Ringbearer laughed before answering seriously, "Amira, I trust you far more than you seem to think."

I relaxed. "Then may your trust in me never have reason to waver,"

He smiled up at me, "I doubt that will ever occur."

"Even the strongest and most trusted fall, Frodo. If that happens to me, do not hesitate to use your sword against me!" I whispered darkly, and he nodded despite his shock. "Promise me."

"I promise," he acquiesced. I exhaled heavily.

"Good," I muttered, looking away and up into the trees. Belatedly, I realized the Elves had quieted their singing now that we were nearing the shore of the River Anduin. A gentle wind passed through the trees and ruffled my hair, and suddenly a familiar magic was probing at my mind. When I gazed sharply up ahead, I nearly gasped aloud when I saw Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn sitting on a small hill near a stone table amid their attendees. Lady Galadriel gave me a nearly imperceptible nod, and her voice rang in my mind.

_The stronger you forge ties with the Ringbearer, the stronger he is but the more are you bound to his fate. Do not forget, dearest Amira, that a time will come for you to rise to your own power!_

I nodded slightly in return, understanding her concern and mulling over her cryptic statement.

When the Fellowship halted at the base of the small hill, she rose from the grass and took a cup from a maiden and gave it Celeborn. "Now it is time to drink the cup of farewell," she said, "Drink, lord of the Galadhrim..."

Once the Lord has drunk from the cup, she descended toward us, bidding each of the Fellowship to sip of the contents as well. She turned to me last, and I took a careful sip from the ornately wrought cup, feeling the white mead burn slightly as it trickled down my throat. Handing her the cup, she merely looked into my eyes before gesturing for the Fellowship to ascend to the crest of the hill and sit upon the soft grass.

With the help of her attendees and maidens, we were all served a final meal from where it had sat upon the stone table. The songs of the Elves rose to crescendo as we ate in silence, and it was a moment caught in time like a raindrop freezing into ice. It was as though forevermore we would sit upon that grassy hill together, eating in the presence of the Lord and Lady of the Wood and never needing to leave...

When we had finished our meal, Lady Galadriel stood. Her maidens stood silent around her, and the songs of the distant Elves had since halted entirely. Only the wind and the Great River remained to disturb the silence which had descended.

Lady Galadriel spoke: "Before you go, I have brought in my ship gifts which the Lord and Lady of the Galadhrim now offer you in memory of Lothlórien."

"Here is the gift of Celeborn and Galadriel to the leader of your Company," she said to Aragorn, and she gave him a sheath that had been made to fit his sword. A tracery of flowers and leaves wrought of silver and gold were laid over the exterior, and on it Elven runes were set among the small gems. "The blade that is drawn from this sheath shall not be stained or broken even in defeat," she explained, "But is there aught else that you desire of me at our parting? For... it may be that we shall not meet again..."

Aragorn shook his head, a small smile forming at his lips. "Lady, you know all my desire, and long held in keeping the only treasure that I seek. Yet it is not yours to give me, even if you would." Somehow I knew he spoke of Lady Arwen.

"Yet maybe this will lighten your heart," Galadriel said quietly, "for it was left in my care to be given to you, should you pass through this land." She lifted from her lap a stone of green set in a silver brooch shaped like an eagle's outstretched wings. The sunlight flashed upon the clear green stone, as she said: "This stone I gave to Celebrían my daughter, and she to hers; and now it comes to you as a token of hope. In this hour take the name that was foretold for you, Elessar, the Elfstone of the house of Elendil!'

When Aragorn took the gift and pinned it to his tunic, it was as though a transformation had taken place – no more would this Aragorn be a mere Ranger in anyone's eyes. "For the gifts that you have given me I thank you," he said.

The Lady bowed her head, and she turned then to Boromir and to him she gave a belt of gold; and to Merry and Pippin she gave small silver belts, each with a clasp wrought like a golden flower. To Legolas she gave a bow such as the Galadhrim used, longer and stouter than the bows of Mirkwood, and strung with a string of elf-hair. With it went a quiver of arrows.

"For you little gardener and lover of trees," she said when she turned to Sam, "I have only a small gift." With this, she placed a small box of grey wood, engraved with a single silver rune upon the lid. "Here is set G for Galadriel," she said, "but also it may stand for garden in your tongue. In this box there is earth from my orchard, and such blessing as Galadriel has still to bestow is upon it. It will not keep you on your road, nor defend you against any peril; but if you keep it and see your home again at last, then perhaps it may reward you. Though you should find all barren and laid waste, there will be few gardens in Middle-earth that will bloom like your garden, if you sprinkle this earth there. Then you may remember Galadriel, and catch a glimpse far off of Lórien."

Sam's ears went a deep shade of red and he bowed deeply, muttering something beyond my hearing.

"And what gift would a Dwarf ask of the Elves?" Lady Galadriel asked as she turned to Gimli.

He shifted beneath her stare. "None, Lady," he answered. "It is enough for me to have seen the Lady of the Galadhrim, and to have heard her gentle words."

The Lady's smile could only be compared to the sun. "Hear all ye Elves!" she cried to those present. "Let none say again that Dwarves are grasping and ungracious! Yet surely, Gimli son of Glóin, you desire something that I could give? Name it, I bid you! You shall not be the only guest without a gift."

His response was stammering as he bowed low before her. "There is nothing, Lady Galadriel. Nothing, unless it might be — unless it is permitted to ask, nay, to name a single strand of your hair, which surpasses the gold of the earth as the stars surpass the gems of the mine. I do not ask for such a gift. But you commanded me to name my desire."

Lord Celeborn gazed at the Dwarf in astonishment, and it was as though time had slowed to a halt as I watched Lady Galadriel's face. The moment passed when her smile remained true.

"It is said that the skill of the Dwarves is in their hands rather than in their tongues," she said, "yet that is not true of Gimli. For none have ever made to me a request so bold and yet so courteous. And how shall I refuse, since I commanded him to speak? But tell me, what would you do with such a gift?"

Gimli looked up sharply, having stared at his boots. "Treasure it, Lady," he answered with growing eloquence and fervour, "in memory of your words to me at our first meeting. And if ever I return to the smithies of my home, it shall be set in imperishable crystal to be an heirloom of my house, and a pledge of good will between the Mountain and the Wood until the end of days."

Unbraiding one of her long golden tresses, she cut off three hairs, laying them in Gimli's hand carefully. I watched as his face took on a mix of shock and reverence.

"These words shall go with the gift" she intoned. "I do not foretell, for all foretelling is now vain: on the one hand lies darkness, and on the other only hope. But if hope should not fail, then I say to you, Gimli son of Glóin, that your hands shall flow with gold, and yet over you gold shall have no dominion."

She then turned to Ehlon, communicating silently before smiling as she formed her next words.

"Lady Ehlon of the Dunedain, wise and strong, you too will not part without a gift! To you I give a ring," Galadriel said quietly, turning over her hand to reveal a plain, silver ring. From where I stood next to Ehlon, I could see Elven runes inscribed upon the surface but they were far too small to be read from my distance. "This is no mere Ring, Lady Ehlon. It is an ancient Ring of protection, and I give it to you now so that you may call on its power whenever you are in need. Call out the name of Elbereth, and help will come to you!"

The Lady took Ehlon's hand, sliding the Ring onto her right ring finger. She grasped the same hand suddenly, and I could sense a mental conversation taking place between the two before she pulled back. Turning to me, her smile faded as her voice entered my mind once more.

_We will not meet again, young one. This will be our last farewell!_

Her power retreating, she smiled again. "And dearest Amira, Ranger of the Dunedain and close friend of Gandalf the Grey, you will share in Lady Ehlon's gift!" Unfolding her other hand, she revealed a twin of Ehlon's silver ring upon her palm, although its runes were coloured in onyx rather than gold. "This is the sister to Lady Ehlon's ring of protection. Resting over your heart you already bear a gift from my granddaughter, Arwen Undómiel, also of protection, therefore this Ring will not be a duplicate of that power. As a sister to the other, its duty is to protect the wearer of the twin. No matter what consequences, these Rings will find each other always and the wearers will be reunited. This I give to you, dearest Amira!" With this, she gently took my hand and slid the Ring onto my right ring finger.

"And I have one other gift," Lady Galadriel continued, surprising me further when she took a bow from the hands of a nearby maiden. "This bow was made for you in the style and content as in Prince Legolas's bow," she said, placing the bow into my hands, followed by a standard quiver.

I touched the incredibly smooth varnish of the bow, feeling as though I had been given the world. "Hannon le," 'Thank-you' I managed to say, and she gave me one last lingering look before turning to Frodo next to me.

"And you, Ring-bearer,' she said, "I come to you last who are not last in my thoughts. For you I have prepared this." At this, she held up a small crystal phial, glittering beneath the sunlight as she placed the phial in Frodo's trembling hands. "In this phial is caught the light of Eärendil's star, set amid the waters of my fountain. It will shine still brighter when night is about you. May it be a light to you in dark places, when all other lights go out. Remember Galadriel and her Mirror!"

The Hobbit bowed lowly, but did not say a word.

Lord Celeborn arose now, and with a small smile he led us away from the grassy hill, Lady Galadriel, and her silent, beautiful maidens.

* * *

Stopping by the shore, Lord Celeborn gestured to the graceful boats at the ready. "These will bear you over the Great River as far as you may ride." His attendees were standing knee deep in the water by the bird-like prow of the boats, and they were surprisingly expressionless.

"There are lembas within leather holds of the boats, so if you should ever be wanting of food, the lembas will provide a day's energy for your journey," Lord Celeborn continued, his azure eyes and hair shining beneath the sun. "And these cloaks are for you all -" At this, several other attendees stepped forward with cloaks of a light green. "-if the need is great, the cloaks will change their colour to best hide you from foes, but they will also keep both the cold and heat away if it is extreme."

The green-eyed Elf attending to my cloak smiled when he surveyed his handiwork and stepped back. He bowed his head slightly, and I returned the gesture, amused when his expression turned from initially bewildered to pleased.

"Farewell to you all of the Fellowship!" Lord Celeborn cried as we were helped into the three boats. "You are ever welcome in Lórien. May the Valar protect and watch over you always, and Elbereth light your path!"

With Aragorn, Frodo, and Sam in one boat; Boromir, Legolas, Merry, and Pippin in the other; and Gimli, Ehlon, and I in the third, we pushed off from the shore and floated out to the middle of the Great River Anduin.

When I looked back over the water, I saw that Lady Galadriel and her maidens were there upon the shore. The Lady of the Wood smiled sadly, gesturing to the other Elves before breaking into a heartbreaking and beautiful song. Her eyes remained trained on mine until she became a mere speck on the shore, her power continuing to brush against me when she disappeared from sight altogether. Finally, though, even that receded, and all at once I was back among the Fellowship and our uncertain future...

* * *

I took over Gimli's place with the oar a little while later, and Ehlon and I rowed in silence. A moment later, the Dwarf sighed.

"I have looked the last upon that which was fairest. Henceforth I will call nothing fairer unless it be her gift," Gimli murmured before smiling at the memory. "I asked her for one hair from her golden head...She gave me three."

I glanced at Gimli, catching his eye and smiling. The Dwarf sighed, turning to Legolas as he rowed in the nearby boat.

"Tell me, Legolas, why did I come on this Quest? Little did I know where the chief peril lay! Truly Elrond spoke, saying that we could not foresee what we might meet upon our road. Torment in the dark was the danger that I feared, and it did not hold me back. But I would not have come, had I known the danger of light and joy. Now I have taken my worst wound in this parting, even if I were to go this night straight to the Dark Lord. Alas for Gimli son of Glóin!"

"Nay!" Legolas answered. "Alas for us all! And for all that walk the world in these after-days. For such is the way of it: to find and lose, as it seems to those whose boat is on the running stream. But I count you blessed, Gimli son of Glóin: for your loss you suffer of your own free will, and you might have chosen otherwise. But you have not forsaken your companions, and the least reward that you shall have is that the memory of Lothlórien shall remain ever clear and unstained in your heart, and shall neither fade nor grow stale."

"Maybe," Gimli mused, "and I thank you for your words. True words doubtless; yet all such comfort is cold. Memory is not what the heart desires. That is only a mirror, be it clear as Kheled-zâram. Or so says the heart of Gimli the Dwarf. Elves may see things otherwise. Indeed I have heard that for them memory is more like to the waking world than to a dream. Not so for Dwarves."

Then he shook his shaggy head, "But let us talk no more of it. Look to the boat! She is too low in the water with all this baggage... I do not wish to drown my grief in cold water."

Focusing back on my paddling, I watched the clear waters of the river and the trees upon the shore move past. Although I did not understand at that moment, I felt as though we were moving further and further away from anything that would resemble peace and protection, and there was a sinking feeling deep inside my heart that we would not know such things in the coming future. How true my prediction was! But only later would I realize the truth in such a feeling...

* * *

**As you can see, I have stuck closely to the book in regard to the scene with Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel. It just fits, in my opinion. Gimli's line, "She gave me three", has always been a favourite. :) Things are once against pensive in Amira's mind as they leave Lorien, and for good reason, as she is clearly feeling that something is about to happen. Of course, she is right. However, she just doesn't know _what_ as of yet...**

**The breaking of the Fellowship, as you all know, is bound to happen and will be unfolding in the next two chapters. Those two chapters spell the end of Volume I, with the last chapter totaling approx. 10 000 words. **

**Stay tuned for the upcoming finale to Volume I. Reviews and comments are always appreciated. **


	15. Along the Great River Anduin

**Chapter Fifteen: Along the Great River Anduin**

As it often goes with travelling, the space of time became nearly impossible to track, the lowering sun our only reminder of the waning day. The Fellowship was entirely silent as we rowed down the River, not required to exert too much force with the paddles since the water below us was bearing the boats well. When Gimli took over Ehlon's post by one paddle, I watched her gaze out at the passing trees while twisting the Ring of the Galadhrim around her finger absentmindedly. Around my own finger the sister to Ehlon's Ring shone silver in the sun, and even the onyx runes appeared to glow. I had sensed a form of magic within my Ring, and taking the Lady's words to heart, I knew this magic would work to bind the two wearers of the Rings. Indeed, I felt an increased connection with Ehlon now that we wore them. Questions regarding Lady Galadriel's plan rolled around in my mind, for it seemed that none of her gifts were trivial and non-symbolic for each member of the Fellowship. What had she foreseen that caused her to give these Rings to Ehlon and I? It was as though there were no greater time in my life that I had felt as witless...

* * *

By my later approximation, it was after some time of drifting, on February 23rd TA 3019, that the silence and steady peace was broken. Each of us had taken turns with the paddles, struggling beneath the hazy light of the moon to see Aragorn's lead ahead as one other took rest. When daylight ebbed to night, Ehlon insisted that I halt my paddling, and I leaned against the uprising bow of the boat. I did not sleep, although there was no reason why I could not have: the boats were rocking slightly to the gentle rush of water and there was only the breeze above our heads, mingling with the starlight. Still, something was keeping my eyes from closing, and instead, a sense of malaise descended upon me. I found myself remembering the Watcher in the Water, and I swept my eyes in a circle around the boats. Nothing was to be seen, and yet I could not shake the feeling that we were being watched for something...or someone.

"What is it, Amira?" Ehlon whispered, pausing mid-stroke. I shook my head, frustrated that I could not expand on my senses.

"I do not know," I answered slowly, my mind creating watchful eyes out of every glint of the moon reflecting on the River. "Something watching, perhaps."

Gimli started. "On the River?" He looked around quickly, "We are alone, by my eyes."

I sighed, "I do not see anything either, Gimli, but perhaps we might remain more watchful than ever. The River is open and we are vulnerable in these boats."

The Dwarf nodded, and I could hear Legolas's light voice relaying my message to Aragorn up ahead. I could make out Ehlon's frown in the moonlight.

"I feel it as well," she said quietly, "and the Ring upon my finger does not lie."

She lifted her hand, and I bit back a gasp when I saw the golden runes glowing softly in the darkness. Looking down at my own Ring, I saw that it too was softly glowing, the onyx in the runes giving off a grey/green light. Our eyes met for a moment before she turned to resume paddling.

Only a few moments later, Aragorn spotted none other than the slimy creature we had encountered in Moria: Gollum! In the next moment, he slipped from the nearby log and disappeared into the water.

"I thought we might lose him on the River, but he is too clever a waterman," Aragorn said almost to himself, and Gimli grumbled to himself about not be able to shoot the creature. So this was what Ehlon and I had sensed earlier!

It was at midnight when Sam gave a cry. Rising up and jostling the boat in the process, I gazed up ahead to see dark forms looming from the water – rocks!

"Back, back!" Aragorn called. "Turn! Turn if you can!"

I grabbed the extra paddle and joined with Gimli and Ehlon's efforts to steer our boat from its direct path to the rocks.

"I did not know that we had come so far," I heard Aragorn say to Frodo as they paddled furiously, "Anduin flows faster than I thought. Sarn Gebir must be close at hand already."

"All together, paddle!" shouted Boromir. "Paddle! Or we shall be driven on the shoals."

Only after my arms and shoulders began to ache with the effort did our boat begin to steer against the current toward the Eastern shore with the others. I sighed with relief, but this relief was immediately short-lived...

A moment later, there was the unmistakable twang of bowstrings in the air as arrows flew over our heads like dark birds. Gimli gripped my shoulder, pulling me down to the bottom of the boat and out of the hidden enemy's aim.

"_Yrch_!" Legolas cried as he ducked an oncoming arrow. I rose to view over the side of the boat, and I could see upon the shore, very near, dark shapes running alongside them as more arrows flew overhead. I heard Ehlon curse incomprehensibly. An arrow passed through Aragorn's hood, and my breath caught when one struck Frodo between the shoulders, sliding from his back like a drop of water; thwarted by the coat of mithril.

Once more we put our entire bodies into paddling, throwing the boats forward at the force of our might.

"Gollum's doing, I'll be bound," I distantly heard Sam say to Frodo. "And a nice place to choose, too. The River seems set on taking us right into their arms!"

Gimli grunted as he dug his paddle deeply into the water, and I shivered when an arrow whistled past my ear and struck the River behind me. I cursed the night-eyes of the Orcs on the shore, for we could only barely see their forms while they could easily see ours.

There was no warning for the next arrow whatsoever, and I did not even cry out when it tore into my left shoulder. Dropping my paddle, I clamped my hand over the wound, dazedly feeling blood soak through my tunic and touch my fingers. The arrow had grazed over the upper portion of my shoulder, it seemed, leaving behind a short gash. Ehlon's head whipped over in my direction, and I merely nodded, taking up my paddle again.

When no other arrows struck close to the Fellowship, I remembered the properties of the cloaks we wore. They were now concealing us in our time of need! Arrows continued to whistle in other directions, and as much as I expected one at any time, they did not strike home.

On and on we went, never stopping to rest or halt. The Eastern shore became distant, and at last the arrows went silent. My arms ached from paddling, and I gazed enviously at the ever-strong Gimli, wishing suddenly that I had the endurance of a Dwarf rather than the endurance of an ordinary woman. I felt the shrieking pain in the wound on my shoulder, and even the distant ache in my bandaged hand, but that was no such time to give it consideration. Attention could not be paid to weariness or pain...

* * *

The darkness was beginning to ebb slightly when Aragorn called for a rest at last. Allowing the River to float us ever onward, we quelled our thirst but did not touch the food. Even if I would have been hungry, I could not have eaten a bite with the knotting in my stomach. It was the same unease I had been feeling throughout the night and since the Orc attack from the Eastern shore, but this time it was far stronger. I looked about me but did not see any threat around the boats or upon the shore. It was when I gazed up at the sky that I saw it: a black cloud, it seemed, moving swiftly from the blackness of the South in our direction! I could not find the words to give warning. As it sped closer to the Fellowship, it transformed from what had been a cloud to a great winged creature of immeasurable size and Darkness. It blacked out the starlight and the sky as it moved ceaselessly toward us, and at last I found my voice as a recognition passed over me.

"A Nazgûl!" I cried, feeling its power creep toward me terribly. Almost simultaneously, Legolas and I grabbed our Lórien bows. The bowstrings of Elf hair sang out in the night like music, and there was a careening shriek as our arrows met their mark. The winged creature wavered and swerved, and with astonishing speed, it fell out of the sky and into the black gloom of the Eastern shore.

The Elf Prince and I shared a wide-eyed glance but did not speak.

"Spies," I heard Aragorn sigh, "So they are everywhere we shall step from now on."

I watched Frodo tense at the Ranger's words, and wondered what circled within his mind. He had seemed ill at ease since the Orcs on the Eastern shore, and I reckoned it wasn't merely from a fear of other enemies lying in wait. I expanded my senses outward, something I had not experimented with before, and like stretching a long forgotten muscle, I was shocked to discover that if I concentrated well enough, I could feel the life energy of each member of the Fellowship. Had this been what Lady Galadriel had spoken of? Turning my eyes to Frodo, I felt the presence of the Ring hanging about his neck as though it were next to my own skin. Dark whispers skirted at my mind, and I pulled back roughly, sensing the evil that surrounded him at all times. The Blackness was heavy, and I wondered if this was what the Hobbit must bear constantly. Just from that mere moment of contact, I knew that an amount of my own life energy had lessened; how strong the Ringbearer must have to be! I looked upon him with growing esteem, watching him battle weariness as he continued to paddle alongside Aragorn and Sam.

* * *

A day passed, and then another, and still we did not pause but for a moment before continuing along the Great River. We ate sparingly, although we had plenty of food. It was as though we were expecting harsh times to come at any moment. Indeed, a quiet lay over the Fellowship, broken only by the odd comment by the Hobbits or Gimli, who, to Legolas's chagrin, found the scenery superior to anything he had seen in his life. I agreed wholeheartedly with him in regard to this, for I had never seen such majesty of hills and white bark trees before.

I also had not spent such time aboard a boat, and I was quite unused to sitting in one position for hour upon hour. My body began to ache, and soon no posture was comfortable. Even Boromir appeared restless in his boat, although when I expanded my senses I felt that most of this unease was within his mind...

* * *

On February 25th TA 3019 the River swept us quickly along the narrowing channel, giving the Fellowship little chance of steering clear of any obstacles that might lie ahead. The gentle hills had long since turned to rocky promontories, casting shadows over the River and contrasting deeply against the section of blue sky above us.

"Emyn Muil," Ehlon muttered to herself, and I wondered what travels had taken her to this place before. I forgot my growing weariness as I took in our surroundings, committing everything I could to memory. Up ahead the Great River narrowed sharply, enclosed on each side by what appeared to be two great pillars of rock, their summits shining beneath the sun. The water was pushing us ever onward toward these stone faces, and I looked to Aragorn, who was gazing at them with calm recognition.

"Behold the Argonath, the Pillars of the Kings!" he called. "We shall pass them soon... Hold the middle of the stream!"

As we were swept closer and closer, the stone pillars grew larger and taller, rising forbiddingly above us. It was soon revealed to me that these were no mere rocks: standing upon great pedestals, two Kings stared out across their forgotten kingdom of dark hills and shimmering river water, their left hands raised palm outward in silent warning.

A change rippled over the Fellowship as we neared these two Kings, and when I glanced toward Aragorn, I saw that this change had come from him. My breath caught: sitting tall in the stern of his boat, his eyes had taken on a fiery glint as he gazed upon the powerful and ominous Kings. No longer would he be the weatherworn Ranger, the mysterious Strider...he was now a King returning from his far off travels.

The searing pain of my arrow wound forgot itself.

"Fear not!" his noble voice carried clearly as he spoke to Frodo, who was staring up at the Kings in fright. "Long have I desired to look upon the likenesses of Isildur and Anárion, my sires of old. Under their shadow Elessar, the Elfstone son of Arathorn of the House of Valandil Isildur's son heir of Elendil, has nought to dread!"

With those words, he steered the boat into the narrow chasm marking the passage between the two Kings. The River culminated here, and drew the rest of us forth like mere leaves sitting atop the water. We pulled back our paddles, letting the water steer the boat into the speeding waters of the chasm. The rushing sound of the Great River echoed deafeningly off the smooth cliff walls, their bulk rising endlessly above to the darkening sky. In the next breath, we shot through the narrow like an arrow from a bow, flowing instead into the astonishingly calm waters of an expansive lake. The sun had lowered below the southernmost peaks of the distant mountains, its rays spreading up and over their tree fringed flanks. A far off sound, perhaps thunder, mixed with the sudden quiet of this oval lake.

I heard Gimli sigh quietly, and I realized that I too had relaxed in the midst of these pale, still waters; such a contrast to the pent-up acceleration of the chasm before it.

"Nen Hithoel," Legolas murmured to himself in the boat beside us, and Sam stared out at the waters we glided through in awe.

Glancing toward Aragorn, I saw that upon his lips sat a smile. The fading light of sunset was casting a surreal light over him.

"Behold Tol Brandir!" he said, pointing south to the tall peak. "Upon the left stands Amon Lhaw, and upon the right is Amon Hen the Hills of Hearing and of Sight. In the days of the great kings there were high seats upon them, and watch was kept there. But it is said that no foot of man or beast has ever been set upon Tol Brandir. Ere the shade of night falls we shall come to them. I hear the endless voice of Rauros calling."

_The Falls of Rauros! _ I thought with a surge of excitement. So that had been the thunderous sound in the distance! Only in tales and texts had I heard the power of those great Falls.

"Ah, Rauros," Ehlon breathed out, her voice filled with rare nostalgia. Legolas turned to her, and they shared a smile.

"Long has it been since I ventured here," he said as he dipped his paddle gracefully into the pale water.

"Never before, for I!" Gimli whispered, gazing at the darkened mountains that lie ahead. "All this beauty has lain undiscovered for Gimli son of Glóin!"

"And for I as well," I murmured, drinking in the sight and breathing in the crisp air.

"It is likely that no Hobbits ever stepped into these lands before," Boromir was saying quietly to Merry and Pippin. "Remember well!"

He caught my eye and smiled, his red-gold hair touched by the light of the rising moon at our backs. Returning his smile, I focussed my attention back to the task at hand, following Aragorn's lead ever onward…

* * *

The right arm of the River Anduin took us along the shadows of the dark hills. A thin veil of cloud blurred the stars, but the mirroring moon shone a bright white over us as we went our way. Nothing pierced the silence of the dense forest on the shore, either animal or human. It was very eerie, but the calmness of the water and the feel of the land around it did not warn me to an evil presence.

Gliding closer to the gently sloping hills of Amon Hen, I saw a vibrant green lawn stretching down to touch the waters of Anduin. Led nearer still by Aragorn, the sound of a flowing stream met my ears, breaking through the silence of the night.

"Here we will rest tonight," Aragorn announced. "This is the lawn of Parth Galen: a fair place in the summer days of old. Let us hope that no evil has yet come here."

Steering our boats to the shore, we let them slide up onto the grassy slope. Our legs finally standing on firm ground, we pulled the sleek Lothlórien boats onto the bank. Springing ahead, Legolas scouted an appropriate site for setting our camp beneath a grove of rustling aspen. Supper was a quiet affair, for we were all weary. Gimli kept pulling at his thick beard, as deep in thought as Frodo, who appeared restless next to Sam. It might have well been because of the stiffness in his limbs, but I guessed the cause was the Ring. Personally, it felt as though the pain in my shoulders and arms would never cease. I caught Ehlon's amused glance when I rolled my shoulder in its socket for the umpteenth time, but then her smile morphed into a grimace when she spotted the receding blood stain.

Grabbing my hand wordlessly, she dragged me down to the shore.

"I cannot believe you have not fainted from pain!" she hissed, pushing down on my shoulders so that I knelt on the sand.

I gripped her arm tightly. "It is not all that bad," I insisted. Ignoring me, she brushed my hair to the side, unclasping my cloak. Peeling my tunic over my shoulder, she gasped.

"Not bad…" she muttered angrily, "It still bleeds!"

Sighing, Ehlon withdrew a square cloth from her leather pack. When she had dipped it into the River water, she laid it over the wound, which had begun to shriek with unparalleled pain.

She smiled a sad smile when I sucked in a sharp breath, my teeth clamped tightly.

"It is your bow arm, is it not?" she asked softly, flipping the cloth to its other side. I sighed at its coolness against my overheated skin.

I nodded, my eyes closing briefly.

"Better than your sword arm,"

I laughed a little. She withdrew the cloth, selecting a dry counterpart.

"This will have to do for now," she said, placing it over the arrow wound and pulling my tunic back into place. She leaned back on her haunches.

"How does that feel?" she whispered. I hesitated slightly before experimentally rotating my shoulder. The instantaneous pain made me stop in my tracks.

"It is worse than I had thought," I admitted slowly, "but I am fortunate the arrow tip wasn't poisoned."

She pulled me up alongside her. As she did, I sighted her Ring, shimmering a soft silver.

"It glows tonight," I murmured, and she looked down.

"Danger will lurk everywhere from now onward," she said tiredly, brushing her fingertip over my own Ring, which gleamed a dim jade.

We looked at each other for a long moment. Then she sighed, turning her gaze up to the sky.

"Come, rest awaits," she finally said…

I took the first watch that night, mesmerized by the dancing flames of the fire Merry and Pippin had lit. A lazy wind swirled above the sleeping forms of the Fellowship, but no other sound than the distant Rauros broke the heaviness of the silence which had descended. My thoughts turned to our coming choice.

Would we turn to the East, or to the West?

The fate of the Fellowship once again lay in the hands of Frodo.

My heart constricted painfully…_Oh Gandalf, where are you?_

I looked over to the Hobbit, observing that even in sleep his expression was tense. Sighing, my thoughts turned to my own role in this Quest. Was there naught else I could do to aid the Ringbearer? And, once our direction took us closer to Mordor and the power of Sauron, would I still have the strength to resist the Ring?

My gaze fell on Boromir, who appeared to be sleeping very peacefully. Something tugged at my heart, likening to a warning. Before I could look deeply into it, the sensation had passed. I nearly growled in frustration, for I knew it had been something foretelling Boromir's future. A warning…But for what?

I allowed my frustration to fade, and instead fed the hungry fire another log. If there was nothing else in my power to do, then that must stand. An unsettling feeling fell over me then, as I remembered the abilities Lady Galadriel had spoken of. What of the intensity that seemed to be building within me every day?

Which reminded me…

Breathing out heavily, I extended my awareness past the encirclement of our camp. The vibrant and overwhelming energies of the surrounding trees touched me, and I pulled back in shock. Sucking in a breath, I tentatively pushed my senses outward again. It was as though I was stretching a long forgotten muscle. A part buried deep within me sang out with relief, and suddenly I realized I was sensing the collective energy of the entire sloping hillside. A startlingly clear vision of a particularly tall Malorn tree entered my mind and, stealing my excitement, I allowed myself to make contact with my mind.

It was like a spark from a fire. I nearly gasped aloud as a rush of earthen magic flowed through the tree to me. Unable to maintain the connection any longer, I cut myself away. In the next moment, I was breathing rather irregularly, once again in the circle of the fire.

Had I fallen asleep and that had all transpired in a dream?

Or had I remained here physically the entire time?

I then noticed that the pain in my body had nearly evaporated, and that same excitement rippled through me. Had this been what the Lady of the Wood had been referring to? I attempted to calm down my shocked and flurried mind.

I had my watch to focus on…

* * *

**Well, the end is near in sight now, with this chapter being the second to last in my first volume of the Grey Book of Days. Amira is experimenting a little with her abilities, but don't expect too many crazy mind-reading or super-healing capabilities on her part. I try and stay as realistic as possible, which may seem ironic since this is, after all, fantasy, but I will still endeavor to do my very best. :)**

**Thank-you, as always, for continuing to read on and please feel free to comment and review as you please!**


	16. Fall of Boromir & End of the Fellowship

**Chapter Sixteen: The Fall of Boromir, and the End of the Fellowship**

Aragorn took over my watch when the moon had nearly set, although it was not his watch. I insisted that he rest, but he merely shook his head, pushing me in the direction of where my cloak had been lain on the ground. I could not sleep for the tempest of thoughts swirling in my mind. Instead, I merely watched the flames and made periodic checks of our surroundings with my growing ability. It was tiring, but by the time the sun's first rays crept over the flanks of Tol Brandir, I had estimated I could sense the presence of what lay in any direction as far away as half a league.

How had I not experimented with my own power before?

An answer came to mind unexpectedly: _The time had not come for the magic of the Valar to bloom within thee._

I caught Aragorn's calculating gaze.

"Something has happened," he whispered. "What is it?"

Propping myself up on my elbow, I rubbed my eyes wearily. "I do not know myself," I whispered back, "but the power is growing within me."

His smile was immediate. "Is it?"

I nodded wordlessly, and he sighed.

"I have been meaning to ask of it, but the time has not been suitable…" Aragorn trailed off, and then he surprised me by continuing thoughtfully: "I have felt your magic before on other occasions on this journey, and I know it is far beyond anything I've encountered with a child of the Dunedain. Would you permit me to know more, Amira?"

My breath caught in my throat at his request, and I had to swallow first before answering.

"You may know whatever you wish, Aragorn," I replied softly, "but I only discovered the majority of this…ability as of late."

He nodded, waiting for me to continue. I let out a sigh, pulling myself into a sitting position.

How would I articulate this?

I took a deep breath, looking him in the eye. "It is like an inner eye. I can expand my senses, and stretch it as far as beyond this hill to the other trees. But it is very strange, since I do not think anything occurs outside of my mind. It is all in my mind."

"You feel the trees?" Aragorn gasped, and I stared at him, confused by his shock. He shook his head, gesturing for me to continue.

"And sometimes I see an image of the trees themselves, and…" I struggled for the right words, "I connected my mind to the energy of the tree. It was like a river flowing through me, and when I came back the pain in my shoulder was gone."

Aragorn continued looking at me very intensely, as though he had never seen me before. Finally, he straightened and placed another log on the fire. "This is a powerful gift, Amira," he mused aloud, "I nearly do not know what to think of it, for it is extremely rare in those of non-Elven races. And," he continued, rubbing his stubbly chin thoughtfully, "it might be extremely useful in the coming days. You say you can sense as far away as beyond this hill here?"

I nodded, and we were silent again. Aragorn stared steadfastly at the fire, and I knew he must be thinking very deeply. I stretched my senses to him, and although his field was guarded, I caught a feeling of responsibility and concern.

Blinking rapidly, I was about to speak when I heard Frodo stir. Standing slowly, he glanced between Aragorn and I.

"Why did you wake?" he asked Aragorn, "It is not your watch."

Our leader was silent for a long moment, and throughout that time I felt a sharp sensation of danger creep up my spine.

At last, Aragorn drew in a deep breath.

"I do not know," he admitted slowly, "but a shadow and a threat has been growing in my sleep. It would be well to draw your sword... Let us see what Sting may show."

Belatedly I remembered the ring Lady Galadriel had given me, and when I glanced at my hand, the edge of the onyx band glowed a faint jade. Even the pendant of the White Tree was warm against my skin…

Frodo reached to his side where the sword hung from a belt. Sliding it half-way from its sheath, I bit back a gasp when I saw the edges gleaming a dim silver in the blackness of the night.

"Orcs!" Frodo murmured in dismay, "Not very near, and yet too near, it seems."

Aragorn met my eyes, a silent question lurking within them, before turning back to the Ringbearer.

"I feared as much," he said, "But maybe they are not on this side of the River. The light of Sting is faint, and it may point to no more than spies of Mordor roaming on the slopes of Amon Lhaw. I have never heard before of Orcs upon Amon Hen."

Extending my senses outward once more, I scanned as far and wide as I possibly could, stretching my newfound ability to the limit. Trees reached toward me, but I brushed over them quickly. And then, there it was…that feeling of danger lurking in the distance. A heavy stone seemed to fall into my stomach as I switched my focus to the opposite shore, scanning quickly.

Dizzy, I pulled back and was once again present. Aragorn was gazing fixedly at me, his entire body rigid. I realized that mine, too, was as taut as a bow string. Breathing out, I forced myself to relax.

"Sting does not fail to warn of the distant evil," I murmured, rubbing my eyes. Frodo turned to Aragorn in confusion, but the man was still staring at me in concentration.

"On the opposite shore?" he asked.

I nodded, "Still far from here,"

"How far?"

I shook my head in frustration. "I cannot tell."

"Orcs?" Frodo whispered, and I sighed.

"It feels like it, but I cannot say," I admitted slowly.

Aragorn leaned back, staring up at the trees. "We will likely be safe tonight, but in the morn we must act swiftly."

Frodo continued to gaze at me in wonder. "Your magic grows, Amira? Is that so?"

I nodded, "Lady Galadriel spoke of this, but I did not realize how quickly it might come to pass…or how underprepared I am."

He laid his hand on my knee. "No more underprepared than I," he murmured. I smiled at him, although the direct contact made the Ring far more present than usual.

The Ringbearer sighed, patting my knee. "You are weary. You should sleep at least a little while."

Aragorn nodded, and with a sigh, I lowered myself onto my cloak.

* * *

I suppose sleep had enveloped me far longer than I planned, for it was Ehlon who shook me awake. She gave me an amused smile as I brushed off a few leaves, and she leaned forward to pluck a twig from my hair.

"Aragorn says you feel the presence of evil in the distance…" she murmured.

I nodded, and was about to speak when Sam touched my shoulder, offering me a portion of lembas. I took it gratefully, noting that it will still be yet an hour before full daylight shone over us.

When we had all finished our breakfast, Aragorn gathered us into a circle around the embers of the dying fire.

"The day has come at last," he said, "'the day of choice which we have long delayed. What shall now become of our Company that has travelled so far...? Shall we turn west with Boromir and go to the wars of Gondor; or turn east to the Fear and Shadow; or shall we break our fellowship and go this way and that as each may choose? Whatever we do must be done soon. We cannot long halt here."

The dread that had been growing within me the past ten days came to a peak at that moment, as the Fellowship remained completely silent. Aragorn turned to Frodo.

"Well, Frodo," he began, "I fear that the burden is laid upon you. You are the Bearer appointed by the Council. Your own way you alone can choose. In this matter I cannot advise you."

All eyes fell to the Ringbearer, and his brow was furrowed as he bit his lip. Finally, he looked up from the ground.

"I know that haste is needed, yet I cannot choose," he said, "The burden is heavy. Give me an hour longer, and I will speak. Let me be alone!"

Aragorn smiled sadly at the Hobbit. "Very well, Frodo son of Drogo. You shall have an hour, and you shall be alone. We will stay here for a while. But do not stray far or out of call."

Rising, he walked unhurriedly from the clearing and into the arms of the awaiting trees to conceal him. I followed Sam's penetrating gaze to Boromir, whose eyes followed the Ringbearer's movement until he was at last out of sight and beyond our hearing. Sam looked at me, and I saw his silent worry clear upon his face. He scrubbed at his eyes wearily, and from the corner of my eye, I watched Boromir's eyes return to the circle again.

We were all silent for a long moment. Presently Legolas stood.

"Well, I do not envy the Ringbearer for the weight of his decision," he murmured as Merry and Pippin rose to organize the strayed gear.

Aragorn sighed, reaching into his pack and withdrawing his pipe for the first time since Lórien. Lighting it slowly, he sat starting at the fading embers of the previous night's fire. Boromir stood and began to pace around the small clearing, his brow furrowed in thought. Ehlon sighed in audible irritation at the Gondorian's unsettled state, rising to vacate the clearing entirely.

"An hour," Gimli muttered to himself while he pulled at his beard. "Well then…"

A moment later he sighed. "Well then," he repeated, turning to me. "At least we aren't sitting with our limbs immobile for hours on end, aye lass?"

His mirthful eyes made me smile. "Yes, Gimli, and for that I am very grateful."

"So am I," Pippin agreed, "although this waiting is hard on a Hobbit's nerves."

We fell silent again, our attempt at conversation failing as our thoughts turned back to Frodo.

Where was he pacing, and where did his hesitations lie?

And more, what would his choice mean for the Fellowship?

It was Aragorn who broke the silence at last.

"He is debating which course is the most desperate, I think," he said, "And well he may. It is now more hopeless than ever for the Company to go east, since we have been tracked by Gollum, and must fear that the secret of our journey is already betrayed. But Minas Tirith is no nearer to the Fire and the destruction of the Burden." He paused but for a moment to blow a smoke ring. "We may remain there for a while and make a brave stand; but the Lord Denethor and all his men cannot hope to do what even Elrond said was beyond his power: either to keep the Burden secret, or to hold off the full might of the Enemy when he comes to take it. Which way would any of us choose in Frodo's place? I do not know. Now indeed we miss Gandalf most."

The pain in my heart rose then at the mention of my Mentor's name.

Legolas appeared in the clearing.

"Grievous is our loss," Legolas murmured, and then his voice rose, "Yet we must needs make up our minds without his aid. Why cannot we decide, and so help Frodo? Let us call him back and then vote! I should vote for Minas Tirith."

Boromir stopped pacing to look at the Elf in surprise.

"And so should I," Gimli announced. "We, of course, were only sent to help the Bearer along the road, to go no further than we wished; and none of us is under any oath or command to seek Mount Doom. Hard was my parting from Lothlórien. Yet I have come so far, and I say this: now we have reached the last choice, it is clear to me that I cannot leave Frodo. I would choose Minas Tirith, but if he does not, then I follow him."

The Prince sighed, "And I too will go with him. It would be faithless now to say farewell."

"And a wish for death on him," I muttered darkly.

Aragorn caught my eye. "It would indeed be a betrayal, if we all left him," he agreed, "But if he goes east, then all need not go with him; nor do I think that all should. That venture is desperate: as much so for eight as for three or two, or one alone. If you would let me choose, then I should appoint three companions: Sam, who could not bear it otherwise; and Gimli; and myself. Boromir will return to his own city, where his father and his people need him; and with him the others should go, or at least Meriadoc and Peregrin, if Legolas is not willing to leave us."

Merry dropped the plate he had been holding, anger in his brown eyes. "That won't do at all! We can't leave Frodo! Pippin and I always intended to go wherever he went, and we still do. But we did not realize what that would mean. It seemed different so far away, in the Shire or in Rivendell. It would be mad and cruel to let Frodo go to Mordor. Why can't we stop him?"

"We _must_ stop him," Pippin said, "And that is what he is worrying about, I am sure. He knows we shan't agree to his going East. And he doesn't like to ask anyone to go with him, poor old fellow. Imagine it: going off to Mordor alone!" Pippin shuddered at the thought. "But the dear silly old hobbit, he ought to know that he hasn't got to ask. He ought to know that if we can't stop him, we shan't leave him."

I nodded, but it was Sam who spoke next.

"Begging your pardon," he interjected, "I don't think you understand my master at all. He isn't hesitating about which way to go. Of course not! What's the good of Minas Tirith anyway? To him, I mean, begging your pardon, Master Boromir," he added quickly, turning toward Boromir.

Except the Gondorian was nowhere to be seen.

Panic rose within me, for why hadn't I seen or heard his departure from the clearing?

Or worse, why hadn't I sensed it?

"Now where's he got to?" Sam cried, his face pinched again with worry. "He's been a bit queer lately, to my mind. But anyway he's not in this business. He's off to his home, as he always said; and no blame to him. But Mr. Frodo, he knows he's got to find the Cracks of Doom, if he can. But he's afraid. Now it's come to the point, he's just plain terrified. That's what his trouble is. Of course he's had a bit of schooling, so to speak - we all have - since we left home, or he'd be so terrified he'd just fling the Ring in the River and bolt. But he's still too frightened to start. And he isn't worrying about us either: whether we'll go along with him or no. He knows we mean to. That's another thing that's bothering him. If he screws himself up to go, he'll want to go alone. Mark my words! We're going to have trouble when he comes back. For he'll screw himself up all right, as sure as his name's Baggins."

Ehlon's eyes were on me, and I realized I had not yet taken a breath.

"I believe you speak more wisely than any of us, Sam," Aragorn was saying, "And what shall we do, if you prove right?"

"Stop him! Don't let him go!" Pippin retorted.

I forced myself to calm down. Surely Boromir had gone to the shore to be away from the doom-filled conversation. But the nagging feeling at the pit of my stomach told me otherwise…

Our leader sighed. "I wonder?" Aragorn murmured, "He is the Bearer, and the fate of the Burden is on him. I do not think that it is our part to drive him one way or the other. Nor do I think that we should succeed, if we tried. There are other powers at work far stronger."

Pippin gave a short sigh. "Well, I wish Frodo would 'screw himself up' and come back, and let us get it over. This waiting is horrible! Surely the time is up?"

Unable to sit still any longer, I stood. Ehlon caught my sleeve, gazing at me with a hard expression.

Aragorn was putting away his pipe. "Yes," he agreed, "The hour is long passed. The morning is wearing away. We must call for him."

"Aragorn," I began, and he met my eyes. "Let me find Frodo. I will know where he has gone."

He must have heard the emotion in my voice, for his fist clenched. "Go, but hasten, for evil comes closer every hour."

Ehlon's fingers tightened on my sleeve. "You cannot go alone with that man lurking about after Frodo!" she hissed. I peeled back her fingers one by one.

"We will search for Boromir," Aragorn said darkly, "Do not fear, Ehlon."

"He will not harm me," I whispered to her, and at last she looked away.

The eyes of the Fellowship followed me until I was out of sight, and as soon as I began climbing up the hill, I stopped to scan the forest around me. The familiar energies of the trees met my senses, but then, as I extended ever outward, I caught the dark whisperings of the Ring further up the hillside. Walking quicker than ever now, I rested my palm on the hilt of my sword as I pushed through the forest. The trees grew further apart as I neared the old stone of a ruin, and suddenly I heard a voice.

I froze where I had concealed myself behind a roughhewn column.

It was Boromir.

"I was afraid for you, Frodo," he was saying in a gentle tone, "If Aragorn and Amira are right and Orcs are near, then none of us should wander alone, and you least of all: so much depends on you. And my heart too is heavy. May I stay now and talk for a while, since I have found you? Two together may perhaps find wisdom."

Frodo's voice, although faltering slightly, was strong. "You are kind. But I do not think that any speech will help me. For I know what I should do, but I am afraid of doing it, Boromir: afraid…"

Peering to the side, I watched as Boromir sat next to the Ringbearer on the stone.

"Are you sure that you do not suffer needlessly?" he asked, "I wish to help you. You need counsel in your hard choice. Will you not take mine?"

There was an unidentifiable emotion in Frodo's voice now. "I think I know already what counsel you would give, Boromir. And it would seem like wisdom but for the warning of my heart."

"'Warning?'" Boromir repeated a bit sharply, "Warning against what?"

"Against delay," Frodo answered, "Against the way that seems easier. Against refusal of the burden that is laid on me. Against — well, if it must be said, against trust in the strength and truth of Men."

My heart boomed now in my ears as I awaited Boromir's response.

"Yet that strength has long protected you far away in your little country, though you knew it not," he said.

"I do not doubt the valour of your people. But the world is changing. The walls of Minas Tirith may be strong, but they are not strong enough. If they fail, what then?" Frodo pointed out.

"We shall fall in battle valiantly. Yet there is still hope that they will not fail."

"No hope while the Ring lasts," Frodo murmured.

"Ah! The Ring!" Boromir cried, a strange edge to his voice. "The Ring! Is it not a strange fate that we should suffer so much fear and doubt for so small a thing? And I have seen it only for an instant in the House of Elrond. Could I not have a sight of it again?"

I felt my blood turn cold. Peering from behind the column again, I watched as Frodo looked up at Boromir's kindly expression. 'No!' I cried mentally, 'Do not show him!'

"It is best that it should lie hidden," Frodo answered, and I nearly fainted with relief.

"As you wish. I care not," Boromir said easily. "Yet may I not even speak of it? For you seem ever to think only of its power in the hands of the Enemy: of its evil uses not of its good. The world is changing, you say. Minas Tirith will fall, if the Ring lasts. But why? Certainly, if the Ring were with the Enemy. But why, if it were with us?"

I froze again, my hand tightening around the hilt of my sword. 'No Boromir!' I thought, panic setting in like a carrion bird.

Frodo sighed, "Were you not at the Council? Because we cannot use it, and what is done with it turns to evil."

I heard Boromir rise and begin to pace, his impatience palpable from here. "So you go on," he cried. "Gandalf, Elrond — all these folk have taught you to say so. For themselves they may be right. These elves and half-elves and wizards, they would come to grief perhaps. Yet often I doubt if they are wise and not merely timid... True-hearted Men, they will not be corrupted. We of Minas Tirith have been staunch through long years of trial. We do not desire the power of wizard-lords, only strength to defend ourselves... And behold! In our need chance brings to light the Ring of Power. It is a gift, I say; a gift to the foes of Mordor. It is mad not to use it, to use the power of the Enemy against him. The fearless, the ruthless, these alone will achieve victory. What could not a warrior do in this hour, a great leader? What could not Aragorn do? Or if he refuses, why not Boromir? The Ring would give me power of Command. How I would drive the hosts of Mordor, and all men would flock to my banner!"

Boromir's moody pacing turned to heavy strides on the ground as he spoke louder of his brave plans. I cringed at his words, of his talk of great armies and alliances, victories and triumph over Mordor, and his becoming a mighty King of great revere.

His strides came to a stop suddenly. "And yet they tell us to throw it away!" he cried in frustration. "I do not say destroy it. That might be well, if reason could show any hope of doing so. It does not. The only plan that is proposed to us is that a Halfling should walk blindly into Mordor and offer the Enemy every chance of recapturing it for himself. Folly!"

Boromir paused a moment. "Surely you see it, my friend? You say that you are afraid... But is it not really your good sense that revolts?"

"No, I am afraid," Frodo replied slowly. "Simply afraid. But I am glad to have heard you speak so fully. My mind is clearer now."

"Then you will come to Minas Tirith?" Boromir asked, his voice eager.

Frodo shifted in his spot on the ground. "You misunderstand me," was all he said.

But Boromir was far from finished his persistence. "But you will come, at least for a while. My city is not far now; and it is little further from there to Mordor than from here. We have been long in the wilderness, and you need news of what the Enemy is doing before you make a move. Come with me, Frodo. You need rest before your venture, if go you must."

Frodo did not answer, and Boromir sighed again.

"Why are you so unfriendly?" Boromir mused. "I am a true man, neither thief nor tracker. I need your Ring: that you know now; but I give you my word that I do not desire to keep it. Will you not at least let me make trial of my plan? Lend me the Ring!"

I heard Frodo stand quickly. "No! No!" he ground out, "The Council laid it upon me to bear it."

"It is by our own folly that the Enemy will defeat us," Boromir cried, "Obstinate fool! Running wilfully to death and ruining our cause. If any mortals have claim to the Ring, it is the men of Númenor, and not Halflings. It is not yours save by unhappy chance. It might have been mine. It should be mine. Give it to me!"

Again, Frodo was silent, and I heard him move further away. Peering sideways again, I saw that he had placed himself so that a stone boulder lay between he and Boromir.

"Come, come my friend!" Boromir urged in a much calmer voice. "Why not get rid of it? Why not be free of your doubt and fear?" An emotion seemed to seize him then, for his breathing became erratic. "You can lay the blame on me, if you will. You can say that I was too strong and took it by force…"

He trailed off, and in a sudden perilous tone, he cried, "For I am too strong for you, Halfling!"

Before I had decided on my actions, I had darted from behind the pillar. Boromir was leaping over the stone toward Frodo, and the Hobbit dodged aside to avoid the Man's advance.

"_Boromir!_" I yelled, moving hastily in front of the trembling Ringbearer.

The great warrior's features frightened me; so hideous and raging!

"What are you doing here?" he snarled, "This is no business of yours."

"Boromir…" I warned slowly, "You are not yourself."

"Get away," he spat, "You shouldn't have been poking your nose here. Get out!"

I pushed a stunned Frodo further behind me, drawing my sword halfway and then sliding it back into its sheath.

He gasped, clutching my arm. "Amira, no!"

I ignored his plea. "I will not leave until you do."

A new rage came into Boromir's eyes. "So you want the Ring for yourself!" he cried, his body shaking with restrained anger.

And then it was though something inside of him snapped. Forcing himself forward, he attempted to push past me to Frodo, but I pushed back as hard as I could, my hands on his upper arms.

"Boromir!" I cried, "Listen to your words!"

"Amira, don't! He will harm you!" Frodo begged, moving to the other side of the protective boulder.

Boromir pushed me downward with surprising force, but I hung onto his arms, pulling him down with me. Twisting to the side, I landed on my back, jumping up at the same time he did.

"Do not make this difficult," Boromir hissed as we had another stand-off.

"Boromir, this is not you," I repeated, "The Ring has stolen your voice!"

At the mention of the Ring, he surged forward, drawing his sword as he did so. I met his heavy stroke awkwardly with a harsh clash of steel.

"No!" I cried desperately.

"You will let me through!" he growled, putting his entire weight into the next swing. I stumbled backwards at his force, my arms shaking, but I managed a parry in return.

"Frodo, _run!_" I yelled, sensing the Hobbit's shock behind us. I glanced quickly over my shoulder, and saw that he stood completely still, his eyes widened in terror. Looking back to Boromir's oncoming blade, I barely dodged to the side to miss a thrust which would have run me through.

Boromir growled in frustration, changing his tactic and punching out with his fist. I ducked, which allowed him to advance toward Frodo. I caught his leg hastily and pulled him down. With a curse, he rose to his knees and sent his blade toward me again. And then it happened…

I saw him aiming at my neck, and although I dodged sharply to the left, the edge of his broadsword caught me along my jaw, cutting through the skin and drawing blood. I cried out, watching him stand and bring his sword down over me. Rolling to the side, I felt the sword cut into the grass a mere finger width from where my shoulder had been moments before.

Seeing his chance, he whirled around to Frodo, who stared back at him with palpable horror and anger.

"Frodo!" I shouted, my voice breaking. I watched him grab the chain of his necklace, slipping his finger toward the Ring. _No…Not with evil so close by!_ I thought desperately.

And then he disappeared.

Boromir gasped, taking a confounded step backward. He ran toward the trees, peering around trees and boulders, stone columns and ruins.

"Miserable trickster!" he screamed. "Let me get my hands on you! Now I see your mind. You will take the Ring to Sauron and sell us all... Curse you and all Halflings to death and darkness!"

And then, I watched in stunned immobility as his foot caught on a stone and he fell to the ground in an ungainly sprawl. He lay there breathing hard, his face pressed against the damp leaves and grass. A sound at the back of his throat alerted me that he was weeping.

Rising, he ran a shaking hand over his face, wiping away a tear.

"What have I said?" he cried desperately, and then he sighted me, and his expression turned to horror. "What have I done?" He fell to his knees and pulled at his hair, calling, "Frodo, Frodo! Come back! A madness took me, but it has passed. Come back!"

My hand pressed to my jaw, I stepped over to him. "Boromir…" I murmured, and he looked at me with wild, weeping eyes.

"Amira…" he groaned, dropping his chin to his chest. "What have I done?"

I touched his tangled hair. "Stay here," I whispered, watching his great shoulders heave. "Be calm,"

And then I strode through the forest in the direction that the dark whispers came. Rushing blindly after the Ringbearer, I clambered further down the hillside until I heard Frodo's ragged breathing where he had stopped by another ruin.

"Frodo…" I gasped, taking a laboured breath. "Please do not fear me. Take off the Ring; it is all over."

He appeared then, leaning his back wearily against the trunk of a golden tree. His eyes fixed to mine. "Are you alright?" he asked. I nodded.

"Only a cut," I assured him, although in reality it was beginning to hurt quite a lot.

Frodo's hand clutched at the Ring through his tunic. "I cannot stay here long," he ground out, "I must leave, or the Ring will destroy you all."

My heart fell like a stone sinking to the bottom of a pond. "You will go alone?" I asked in dread.

He nodded, "To be a Ringbearer is to be alone. I cannot lead my friends to the mouth of Sauron. I cannot!"

"You are not leading us, we are following you. You could not walk through Mordor without aid, Frodo. Please do not think it possible, for it is a wish of death on yourself!" I pleaded, sinking to my knees.

The Hobbit stepped toward me. "It is a wish of death on all of us," he said, "and I would rather it be on me."

"Frodo…" I began, but trailed off quickly as he moved directly in front of me.

"This is where we must part, Amira," he continued sadly, touching my shoulder. A tear slid down his cheek. "This is where I go on alone, and you do not stop me! That is all I ask of you."

"Frodo," I said again, but he shook his head.

"You told me once that if I ever needed aid, to call on you to lessen the weight of the Ring," he said, "And now I ask of you to not follow me. Mordor is my path and my path alone."

I could not meet his clear, deep eyes. "Ringbearer, you leave me with no choice but to oblige you, although every fibre of my being resists it."

His strong voice became soft. "I will always remember what you have done for me, Lady Amira. I only wish one day to meet you again."

I looked up, feeling tears sting my eyes. I found no words to say.

And then he pulled me into a tight embrace, my ear resting above the Ring over his chest. The first tear was sliding down my cheek when he broke away from me.

"Do not lose your will in the fires of Mordor, Frodo Baggins," I said hoarsely, "and do not think that I won't do everything in my power to come after you."

He put his hands on either side of my face. "Goodbye, Amira, Ranger of the Dunedain" he murmured. "Goodbye, for the hours run short."

I sighed, attempting to compose myself. "May Elbereth light your path, Frodo son of Drogo."

Stepping away, he turned and ran out of sight, his footsteps fading away until nothing but the wind in the trees above me could be heard.

What had just happened?

_What had I allowed?_

I used my fledgling grief to fuel my dogged run back to the camp; not caring that branches were whipping into my face or that rocks were bruising my toes as I stumbled over them.

Breaking into the clearing, I watched Aragorn jump to his feet.

"Is Sam with you-"

He stopped, his eyes landing on my wound.

"Amira!" Ehlon cried, moving toward me. "What has happened? I felt you in danger."

I ignored her question. "Has Boromir returned?"

Legolas's fists clenched. "Did he harm you?"

"Nay, he has not returned," Aragorn answered slowly, "Did you not find him?"

The panic fluttering in my chest turned to heavy wing beats. "He tried to take the Ring," I said, my hand on the hilt of my sword. "But we must search him out, for it is no longer safe here."

"Orcs come…" Legolas murmured, his bow already in his hands.

I noticed that the camp had already been packed away. Merry and Pippin stood looking on in horror, but Sam…

Where was Sam?

"Where is he?" I asked waveringly, and Ehlon gripped my forearm, confused at my panic.

"We thought he had sought you out," she said. "Amira, what is happening?"

It all fell into place at that moment. Sam had followed Frodo to the boats!

"He has gone with Frodo," I breathed out, and I saw Aragorn watching me carefully. "We must find Boromir,"

Ehlon's grip on my forearm tightened, but then she gasped. I followed her gaze to her Ring, and it was glowing brightly.

Danger…

"Orcs!" Gimli cried, hoisting his axe.

I began to run, and after a moment of hesitation, the others came running after me. Springing up onto the stone floor of a ruin, I spotted Boromir sitting with his head in his hands.

"Boromir!" I called, and he whirled around, drawing his sword. He relaxed when he saw it was me, but went rigid when the others came into view.

"Orcs come," I said between breaths, and his eyes lit with shock. "They are drawn by the Ring."

"Where is Frodo?" he questioned in desperation, but Aragorn was already tracking the Ringbearer's footprints down the hillside and toward the boats.

Surely enough time had elapsed for Frodo to draw out the boat, perhaps with Sam, and escape before the hosts of Mordor fell over us?

"Spread out and search! Sam may be lost!" Aragorn called before disappearing behind the trees.

Legolas and Gimli went off into the wood behind us, and Ehlon cast me a significant look before running along the crest of Amon Hen until she was out of sight.

This left Boromir, Merry, Pippin, and I.

"Where is Frodo?" Boromir repeated anxiously. Merry peered up at my face, and then he cried out.

"He has gone to Mordor alone, hasn't he?"

I nodded, and Boromir's shoulders fell.

Pippin grabbed his face in grief. "I knew he would make such a move. I knew it!"

Merry turned to me again. "And you did not stop him?" he accused angrily.

My heart constricted painfully again, but I nodded. "Yes, Merry. He ordered me not to stop him, and I could do nothing but obey."

"Oh, Frodo, what are you doing?" the Hobbit groaned.

Boromir shook his shaggy head, but did not say a word.

And that was when I felt it.

_Orcs…_

I drew my sword. "They are coming," I whispered, dread in my voice.

"Draw your swords," Boromir said to the Hobbits, and I looked to him as the harsh voices of the Orcs met our ears. "How many?" he asked tersely.

Fighting back panic, I scanned the hillside, feeling the trees' horror and pain as the Orcs slashed and stomped their way through the forest toward us. Coming back to myself, I took a shaky breath.

"Maybe three dozen, maybe more," I estimated, "I cannot say."

Boromir pushed Merry and Pippin toward the ruins. "Hide where you can," he ordered, and then he turned to me, beckoning with his hand. We crouched together behind a large boulder. Reaching over my shoulder, I took out my bow and fitted an arrow loosely, listening to the advancing thunder of the Orcs' footsteps. Our eyes met and held. Sorrow and horror filled his dark eyes, but then he looked away to the sword in his hand.

Then I saw the Orcs at the far end of the hillside, rushing over the flattened grasses.

My breath caught…

These weren't regular Orcs; they were the fabled Uruk-hai!

I felt my blood freeze in my veins as panic filled me, but then Boromir was springing over the boulder at them, blade swinging wildly. Within moments, three Uruk-hai lay on the ground around him. I loosened my arrow at an especially large one, watching it stumble in its advance toward the Gondorian and fall dead onto the leaves. Again and again I shot from my place by the boulder, catching each Uruk-hai unawares until I at last ran out of arrows. Still, they continued streaming past us and down the hillside. But there was no time to consider the others…

Running from the boulder, I struck out at the Uruk-hai attacking Boromir, saving him from losing an arm.

With a yell, Merry and Pippin charged from their cover, much to my dismay. These beings of Mordor were too great for them, and even for me! My attention returned to another Uruk-hai, who was fitting an arrow on his heavy black bow. He was aiming now to Boromir, who fought three Uruk-hai simultaneously. Grasping a medium sized stone, I threw it with all my strength.

I missed the Uruk-hai's head by a mere finger length.

The arrow flew from the bow, cutting through the air toward the Man.

"_Boromir!"_ I screamed, and he turned just in time to evade the arrow.

Pippin flew at the Uruk-hai, and the creature howled as its hand fell to the ground with a sickly thud. Despite its missing hand, it kicked at the Hobbit, pushing him away to notch another arrow on his bow. Pushing my sword into the chest of the Uruk-hai in front of me, I prepared to launch myself at the one with the bow.

Except it wasn't aiming at Boromir, it was aiming at me…

Time ground to a halt, engraving itself into eternity. Frozen, I watched the black feathered arrow slice toward me.

And then time came unstuck: a large weight collided with me in the next moment, and I heard a pained gasp as I fell slowly to the ground. Rolling onto my knees, I saw Boromir standing where I had been. Horror ripped through me: _No!_

The arrow had instead sunk into his heaving chest, and still he stood there as Uruk-hai

continued to stream past us down the hillside. Nay, he did not move even as the Uruk-hai across from him fitted yet another arrow onto his evil bow and let it fly toward him.

…And still he stood when the second arrow sunk below the first.

Leaping forward in a rage I never knew I possessed, I launched myself into the Uruk-hai, catching him off-guard. The creature snarled, dropping the heavy bow with a thud. Putting my whole strength behind my sword, I watched as the Uruk-hai's shield-arm fell to the ground. It screamed, and I heard another cry from behind me. In my desperation I had forgotten the Hobbits!

Shuddering into action, Boromir stumbled toward Merry and Pippin, who had been cornered against the ruins by two Uruk-hai. Distantly, it seemed, the horn of Gondor sounded. I could not watch any more, for the creature in front of me was rushing onward like a runaway horse. I dove to the side, missing its broadsword by mere fortune. On and on it forced itself at me, one of its wild swings cutting through my sleeve and slicing down my arm to the bandage on my hand. My scream was one of pure pain. Dazedly I watched drops of my own blood fall to the ground as I parried the Uruk-hai's heavy blows, kissing the earth like deep rose petals. Despite missing one arm, the creature was gaining the upper hand in our solitary battle.

Calling on my dwindling reserves of strength, I dodged its sword and pushed mine into its thick neck. It screamed again, the sound biting painfully at my ears, but it still pulled back to thrust its sword at my heart. My hand slipped on the blood which had lain on my hilt, and to my horror, it slipped from my blood slicked fingers. Rolling onto the ground, I hastily withdrew my dagger. On my knees, I threw it wildly.

It struck the Uruk-hai's throat, and with a sickly gurgling sound, it dropped like a stone to the ground. My lungs ached for breath, and yet it felt like I was breathing far too much. Stumbling forward and retrieving my sword and dagger, I attempted to calm myself down.

And that was when I saw the two Uruk-hai pull an unsuspecting Merry and Pippin onto their backs as they rushed onward. Shouting and screaming, they kicked at the Uruk-hai, but they soon disappeared from sight as the army pressed through the forest. Boromir was fighting one other, but he was losing his strength.

Surging forward in a blinding rage, I blocked the Uruk-hai's sword just as it aimed for Boromir's heart. I heard him sink heavily to his knees, but the Uruk-hai was upon me again. Darting forward, I stabbed my dagger into its middle, having to jump backward as its blade attempted to behead me. My back against a tree, I watched in revulsion as it stopped to pluck the dagger from its flesh as though it had been a mere twig. Roaring, it threw it back toward me.

I ducked, hearing it sink into the tree behind me. Standing and swaying, I saw the shield flying toward me too late. The razor sharp, curved ends stuck deeply into the tree, caging my neck and head completely between the bark and shield. Panic seized me. The Uruk-hai roared in triumph, rushing forward to finish what he had begun. I wrenched desperately at the shield, but it would not budge. The creature had its sword lifted above its head. I wrenched one last time, feeling a small tug. Dragging my head instantly downward, my chin and nose scraped the shield as I passed through, and only a moment later the Uruk-hai's blade cut deeply into the tree where my neck had been.

Faint with relief and trembling with life, I pushed past its legs and rolled upright just as the creature gave up pulling at its stuck blade. With my last surge of strength, I pushed my sword in the crack of its armour and into its heart. Instead of screaming and falling to the ground, it pushed its chest forward. Its face was now a hands-length away, terrible and contorted, and I did not have time to move when it butted its forehead down against bridge of my nose. Blood spurted from my nose, but still I pushed my sword further into its heart.

Snarling, the Uruk-hai punched my jaw, and my head snapped to the side. Blood filled my mouth, and pain exploded in my jaw. Pulling at my sword with all my remaining strength, I heard it roar in pain distantly. In the next moment, its head was rolling along the ground, and I staggered backwards at the force of my own swing. My eyes went unfocused as I struggled for breath, and I dazedly felt my sword slip from my grasp.

The pendant of the White Tree burned hot against my skin…

The trees swirled around me at a dizzying speed…

Returning to myself, I lurched toward Boromir. With his chin resting on his shuddering chest, he was still on his knees, his broken sword and cloven horn lying nearby on the trampled grass.

"Boromir!" I whispered, belatedly observing that no sound filled the forest now with the absence of the marching Uruk-hai. I crouched next to him, and he gripped my uninjured hand tightly in his. My gaze fell to the two feathered arrows piercing him, and dread filled me.

"Amira," he said with a cough. "You too are hurt."

"Shh," I murmured, helping him lay with his back on the grass. As he laboured for breath, I scanned the growing bloodstain over his tunic. I wiped at my face with my unsoiled sleeve, ready to place my hands over the wounds to draw out the pain.

His hand gripped mine again. "Leave them be," he gasped. "I am beyond your healing."

Our eyes met, and I saw the fading light in his. Sadness and terror swept over me.

"No…" I whispered, a tear sliding down my cheek.

"They have gone: the Halflings: the Orcs have taken them," he said, "I think they are not dead. Orcs bound them."

I brushed a lock of hair from over his eyes with shaking fingers. "Boromir…"

"Take this," he whispered, sliding a ring from his smallest finger and slipping it onto mine. "Go to Minas Tirith one day…the land of my brother and father…" he struggled for breath, "They will know this ring, but wear it…for it be yours." I looked down at my index finger, seeing the silver band and the red stone shaped like an ornate dragon.

Aragorn and Ehlon burst into the clearing at that moment, summoned by Boromir's horn, but they stopped when they saw the Gondorian and me on the ground.

Aragorn sank to his knees next to Boromir, his eyes widening at the arrows, while Ehlon stood behind me in shock.

Boromir opened his eyes. "I tried to take the Ring from Frodo," he gasped. "I am sorry. I have paid." He paused when Aragorn put his hand over the man's forehead, "Farewell, Aragorn, Lady Ehlon, and Amira! Go to Minas Tirith and save my people! I have failed."

His hand grasped at the ground next to him searchingly, and Ehlon took the hilt of his sword and gave it to him. Boromir brought it up to his chest, gazing intensely at the woman Ranger before looking to Aragorn.

Aragorn shook his head. "No!" he said, kissing his brow. "You have conquered…Few have gained such a victory. Be at peace! Minas Tirith shall not fall!"

The Gondorian smiled, squeezing my hand. "My friend…" he murmured, his eyes fluttering open and closed.

"Be at peace, Boromir son of Denethor," I said waveringly, leaning down to place a kiss on his unshaven cheek.

And so he drew his last breath, and an eerie silence fell over us as we realized the weight of his death. I leaned back onto my haunches, my tears falling freely now. Aragorn let out a pained exhale, still clasping Boromir's hand, and I saw that he too was weeping. Ehlon knelt next to me, and her face was a stony mask as she battled her own emotions…

This was how Gimli and Legolas found us all. They walked forward with their heads bowed in grief, and soon they were standing behind us in silence.

Finally, Legolas said softly: "Alas! We have hunted and slain many Orcs in the woods, but we should have been of more use here. We came when we heard the horn — but too late, it seems." The Elf touched my shoulder. "I fear you have taken deadly hurt."

I shook my head, wiping away the tears angrily. "Nay, it is nothing."

Gimli turned to Aragorn for explanation, leaning as he did on his axe.

Aragorn sighed. "Boromir is dead. He fell defending the Hobbits, while I was away upon the shore."

"The Hobbits!" Gimli cried, "Where are they then? Where is Frodo?"

"He has gone to Mordor with Sam," the Ranger replied slowly, and then he met my eyes.

I swallowed carefully as I rose from my knees, letting go of Boromir's hand. "Two Uruk-hai carried them away before…" I took a shuddering breath, "before either I or Boromir could stop them, they were gone."

Legolas squeezed my shoulder reassuringly, but I nearly felt as though I would be sick.

Ehlon posed the question in everyone's minds. "What is to be done now? We are a broken Fellowship…"

Aragorn sighed, standing as well. The silence was deafening.

"First we must tend the fallen," Legolas murmured. "We cannot leave him lying like carrion among these foul Orcs."

"And tend to those who are injured," Ehlon added, touching my wounded arm. I flinched, looking down for the first time. Oh, it appeared far worse than I had imagined! Blood had soaked through my tunic and run down the length of my arm, bloodying my hand. Bile rose in my throat, and I didn't realize I had swayed until Ehlon pulled me against her side.

All were staring at me concernedly. I took a deep breath. "I am weak, but this will soon pass."

"Come," Ehlon murmured, drawing me away from the unmoving form of Boromir.

"Let us lay him in a boat with his weapons, and the weapons of his vanquished foes," Aragorn was saying as we walked from the small clearing. "We will send him to the Falls of Rauros and give him to Anduin. The River of Gondor will take care at least that no evil creature dishonours his bones."

I was in such a daze that I didn't realize we were at the shore until I stumbled onto the sand. Ehlon grasped my uninjured arm to support me, but I shook her off.

"It is the same hand," she said, eyeing the ruined bandage. She pushed down on my shoulders to make me crouch down. Taking my arm gently, she slowly rolled up the sleeve. I closed my eyes, not wanting to see the damage the Uruk-hai's blade had done.

I heard Ehlon suck in a breath between her teeth. "Oh, Amira, how this must hurt!" she whispered.

I opened my eyes, and I nearly gasped when I saw the mess that was my arm. The Uruk-hai's blade had sliced a pathway from just above my elbow down to my knuckles. Before I turned away, I saw the white of one of the tendons on my hand…

Ehlon dug around in a leather pack, and then she cursed. "I do not have much to bandage the arm, but I will do my best," she muttered, almost to herself.

When she had wrapped two pieces of thin linen around my arm and secure them with a pin, she helped me stand.

"What happened here?" she asked, touching my jaw. I winced, and she pulled back instantly.

"The Uruk-hai punched me while we battled," I said, and I realized the cut from Boromir had been split open by the Uruk-hai's force. Ehlon sighed, bringing her cleaning cloth up to my jaw and wiping away the blood.

"You are lucky you weren't killed…" she mused.

I smiled weakly. "And you as well, fighting out there on your own."

She met my eyes, "I have been fighting alone for much longer, so the danger is less. And the Uruk-hai are lethal opponents to fight against."

I shuddered at the thought, closing my eyes and willing myself not to remember the image of the arrow sinking into Boromir's chest.

"…Amira?"

I opened my eyes, realizing I had not heard any of Ehlon's words.

Her grey eyes were stormy as she grasped my shoulders. "You are not at fault!" she hissed, and I stepped backward away from her.

"I could not save him," I said hoarsely, "He stepped into the arrow that was intended for me…He would be alive now."

Ehlon gripped my uninjured hand tightly. "You cannot blame yourself for that. He fell aware that he was saving you,"

Tears sprang to my eyes again, and I tugged my hand from hers roughly, desperate to hide somewhere. I turned and began to run, no direction in mind but away from the penetrating eyes of the lady Ranger. I heard her curse behind me before springing into a run herself. I pressed on, feeling the burning, terrible pain in my arm as I did so. A mere half league up from the shore I slowed, the pain in my arm so great from the jostling that I nearly fainted. Leaning up against a tree, I breathed hard, feeling the shame fall over me. A moment later, Ehlon caught up with me, pinning me against the trunk so that I couldn't move.

"What in the name of the Valar are you doing?" she demanded gruffly, and I winced at the pressure against my wounded hand. She pulled back a little, and my knees buckled. Sliding downward, I rested on my haunches against the tree, feeling incredibly drained.

I opened my mouth to speak, but no sound slipped between my dry lips.

Ehlon sighed as she knelt in front of me. To my surprise, she pulled me into a tight embrace, her hand fisted in the hair at the back of my neck.

A sob escaped me, and I finally surrendered, sinking against her weakly. She supported me completely, murmuring reassuring words as the pent-up grief of both Gandalf and Boromir's death poured forth.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I repeated against her neck, but she just rested her chin on top of my head wordlessly

In the next moment, it was all over.

The icy claws at my heart had receded, and the clamps around my lungs had disappeared. I sighed, pulling back. She allowed the movement by leaning on her heels, and she watched me while I rubbed at my hot eyes.

"I'm sorry," I said again, shaking my head in shame and embarrassment. She smiled, reaching forward to touch my cheek.

"Don't be sorry," she insisted softly, "You are not at fault for any of what has happened."

I sighed. "I should have sensed it, but I did not."

She took my face between her hands, her expression hard now. "How could you expect to foretell when your magic is fledgling, Amira? You lay such harsh and heavy burdens on yourself. Why?" Her tone was gentler now. "You cannot be responsible for Boromir's death, just as much as you cannot blame yourself for Frodo's decision. You cannot control what happens or what others do, you can only control what you do."

A tear slid down my cheek, and she brushed it away, her hands retreating.

I let out an exhale. "Thank-you, Ehlon," I said, "Thank-you."

She just smiled sadly at me.

* * *

We found Aragorn, Gimli, and Legolas standing pensively on the shore further away, staring down the River Anduin. Legolas turned to me, a small smile on his face. In his hand he held my sword and dagger, clean of any blood.

"The dagger I found in a tree and the sword upon the ground," he said, giving them to me. I took both gratefully, slipping them into their respective sheaths.

"And these…" The Elf lifted his other hand, bunched with my spent arrows. Except, just like the blades, they were clean and seemingly new.

I gasped. He had gone around to the fallen Uruk-hai and collected them! My heart bloomed with gratitude and admiration toward him.

"Oh Legolas," I murmured, putting them back in my quiver. "Thank-you."

He merely touched my shoulder as Aragorn walked forward solemnly.

"We let Boromir away on the boat to the Fall of Rauros, and now here we stand on the brink of decision. Frodo and Sam have gone to Mordor, and Merry and Pippin taken by the Uruk-hai which already are likely leagues away from where we stand now upon this shore," he said, and then he sighed. "I know Legolas, Gimli, and I will give chase to the hosts of Mordor, but what of you, Amira and Lady Ehlon? Where shall you turn?"

Ehlon glanced at me before turning back to the Ranger. "Amira is injured, and I would not chance continuing with you three if it were not that we had no other options."

I spoke up. "I am not as hurt as I may seem. I would go with you all, as long as I may not slow your course."

Aragorn stepped forward, lifting my arm to survey Ehlon's handiwork. He frowned. "Could you wield a sword?" he asked grimly, looking into my eyes.

I hesitated before drawing my sword slowly. Immediate pain jolted through my hand and surged up my arm as my closed my fingers around the hilt, and I let the tip rest on the ground.

"Does that not answer the question?" Ehlon remarked a bit testily as I sheathed my sword with shaking fingers. Aragorn said nothing.

Gimli lifted his axe. "She need not fight with we four to protect her!" he declared, "Amira is a lass of endurance. I vote that she join us. We should choose swiftly."

Aragorn sighed, "Gimli is right, but I am concerned about you, Amira. You are clearly weak."

I inhaled deeply. "My strength will return," I argued.

Legolas's fingers returned to my shoulder, squeezing lightly. "I would protect her too, if the need came to be."

I watched our leader smile unexpectedly. "Wouldn't we all?"

He straightened his shoulders, "Then let us follow the Uruk-hai."

Ehlon sighed, and I tried out a reassuring smile as I turned to her. She nodded almost imperceptibly, and then we were running through the forest, leaving behind the surging Anduin and the remaining Lórien boat sitting alone on the shore.

As I struggled to keep up with the others as we passed by the ruins of Amon Hen, I knew that things would never be the same. The events which had transpired on these hillsides would change the course of the Fellowship forever, and as I attempted to forget my grief, I knew that our only solace would be in our individual footsteps as we gave chase to the hosts of Mordor.

The absence of Frodo and Sam...

The capture of Merry and Pippin…

The death of Boromir…

How could everything go so wrong for the Fellowship, and worse, what lay in wait for us ahead?

End Volume I. Turn to Volume II.

_This is the last page that was written in Volume I of Amira's journey. There is no evidence that other pages exist, so we believe this to be the entirety of the passages. The story continues in Volume II._

* * *

**And so here is the finale of Volume I, ending with the Breaking of the Fellowship. As you well know by now, this is still a rough draft, so some of the scenes in this chapter are suspect to me, since I do not know whether or not they fit: for example, having Amira take on the action scene of Aragorn while Boromir is slowly dying. I went with it anyway, so this is how the story stands for now. I have much to think about in regard to Amira's character development, and have hit the closest I have come to writer's block for a very long time.**

**Worthy of note, I will be gone for over a month on a college trip with 27 other students to Greece and Turkey as part of my studies, so you won't be seeing an update for at least that length of time. I leave on the 16th of May, in but a week, but I will update asap when I return. :) For now, though, I thought I wouldn't leave you hanging at least for this first volume. **

**Thanks for staying with me. I really appreciate it, and I hope you will be able to continue to stay with me and wait until I return, which I shall indeed. Amira isn't going anywhere, and neither is Ehlon or the rest of the Fellowship - they are set firmly in my mind now as though they are truly alive, not just a part of my colourful imagination...Plus, I don't think Ehlon in particular would allow me to discontinue this story, let alone Amira herself. **

**:) Until soon, farewell!**


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